


El cisne (The Swan)

by fieryrondo



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Olympics RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: 2012 ISU Figure Skating World Championships, 2014 Winter Olympics, 2016-2017 Grand Prix Final, 2017 World Figure Skating Championships, 2018 PyeongChang Olympics, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Clueless Javi, Fanart cover included, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, ISU 2010 Cup of Russia, Loosely inspired by Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Slow Burn, Swan!Yuzuru, Swans, Swanyu, figure skating, yuzuvier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2018-09-09 02:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 77,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8872375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieryrondo/pseuds/fieryrondo
Summary: Magical realism!AU of Javier Fernandez's figure skating journey with his training partner, Yuzuru Hanyu, from their fated meeting in 2010 to the 2018 Pyeongchang Olympics.At a Pyrenean folk festival in Jaca, fourteen year old Javier Fernández receives a fortune from a Romani woman who tells him the love of his life is the most beautiful swan in the world that will teach him how to fly. Javi's not impressed.Five years later, Yuzuru Hanyu makes his international senior debut at the 2010 Cup of Russia Grand Prix event. Yuzuru's no swan (what's up with the feathers though?) but he does show Javi how to fly.





	1. La gitana (The gypsy woman)

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what, guys? Notte Stellata doesn't actually mean "The Swan", but "Starry Night". O.o Anyways, I digress. A self-given prompt popped into my head while watching Yuzuru's Notte Stellata EX at the 2016 Grand Prix Final: "He's as beautiful as a swan...what if he WERE a swan?" And bam, this fic was born.
> 
> My first attempt to write a serious Yuzuru/Javier fic. Loosely inspired by Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. The usual RPF disclaimer applies: this is a work of complete and utter fiction, and the characters bear no resemblance to their real-life counterparts.
> 
> Also available in [Russian (русский)](https://ficbook.net/readfic/6150590), translated by [RiverVel](https://ficbook.net/authors/494666). (I have no idea how you are going to finish this when I don't even know when I'll finish this but props to you for taking this on! :D)
> 
> Thank you to the immensely talented [sky-clover](http://clovernyan.tumblr.com) for gracing us with her fanart for this fic. Click [ here](http://clovernyan.tumblr.com/post/157007744587/hey-psssht-hey-hey-guess-in-what) for the original cover fanart. ^^

_cover art by[sky-clover](http://68.media.tumblr.com/b73cf34f09eb4f1ee533e9ef6960bff9/tumblr_ol5l5rylTE1u9y6i5o1_1280.jpg)_

 

It all started, Javi recalled, with the stupid biennial folk festival in Jaca he was forced to attend the summer when he was fourteen. Laura had insisted he accompany her, under the guise that Javi needed to get out more and meet people, but if she were honest, it was probably because she had grown sick and tired of watching him skate in angry circles all day after flubbing all of his jumps.

 

“It’s good to take a break every now and then,” she said on their way to the venue. “Recharge yourself and get back on the ice.”

 

The way things were going, Javi wasn’t sure if he wanted to get back on the ice. At least to figure skate. Hockey, though it lacked the adrenaline rush of triple jumps, seemed more appealing of late. At least, he wouldn’t be subjected to the steady symphony of snickering. Spandex may be more aerodynamically superior to sweatpants but it wasn't at all flattering to his figure or to his masculinity.

 

“You just want an excuse to go ogle the fire-dancing men,” Javi grumbled, walking behind his sister with a slouch.

 

Jaca was a quiet town, but for one week every two years, the town burst into cosmopolitan life as performers and vendors poured in from all over the world. Peddlers pushed their heavy carts, loaded with exotic fripperies and handmade merchandise; hot steaming food from stands choked the air with delicious aromas of spiced meats; jingling bells, thumping drums and human voices mingled in an easy communal rhythm.

 

It was festive and it was loud and all Javi wanted to do was to slink back to their unit and play videogames or sleep. Preferably in that order.

 

“I won’t deny that, but there’s no reason why you can’t enjoy yourself as well,” Laura answered lightly, her eyes brightening at the rich fabrics the weavers had on display. She frowns when Javi kicks a clod of dirt with the toe cap of his sneaker. “Javi…”

 

“Okay, okay, I won’t do it again.”

 

“Maybe we can watch some of the dances later. You could get some ideas for your skate.”

 

Javi scowled.

 

“Like I want more chances for guys to call me gay.”

 

Laura hummed disapprovingly, but let the matter go. This was not a new subject, but a sore point for Javi. That was the disadvantage of figure skating. It was hard for people to understand how such a delicate looking sport required so much stamina and skill. Things might have been different in a country that actually cared about figure skating. Sometimes Laura felt guilty for switching training locations, since he had seemed so unhappy in Jaca, but it really was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for them both and they had to make the best of what they had.

 

“Oooh, that looks interesting!” They passed by a draped tent, its somber purple tones standing out from the festive bright patterns of its neighbors. Windchimes, oddly covered feathers adorned with glass and crystal beads bedecked the tent. As Javi trailed in after Laura, his nose wrinkled at the stifling scent of frankincense and myrrh.

 

“Welcome,” an old Romani woman, drowned in shawls, greeted them. Javi jumped and cursed when he stubbed his toe. The crone had come out of literally nowhere. It was a clever trick, he mused, as the woman hobbles over to the table and slowly shuffled a battered deck of tarot cards.

 

“Who would like their fortune read today?”

 

“I don’t know--aren’t you supposed to have all of the answers, since that’s your job?” Laura cuffed him on the shoulder and murmured apologies to the woman.

 

“Forgive my idiot brother--he’s having a bad day.”

 

“From the look on his face, looks like it’s been more than a bad day,” the woman observed, eyeing Javi keenly. “Well, sit down, please.”

 

Laura shoved Javi forward.

 

“You first, or I’m telling Mom. Be. Nice.”

 

Javi sat down on the cushion, trying not to cough or sneeze.

 

The woman handed him a basket full of crystal rocks.

 

“Free your mind of thoughts and pick one. This will be your focus during the session.” When Javi reaches out, she stopped him.

 

“Don’t think. Just feel.”

 

“No thinking--I like that.” Javi grinned and selected a deep blue one he thought looked cool. It flashed iridescent violet in the the light.

 

“Ahhh, blue titanium quartz,” the fortune-teller woman croaked, her eyes misting over. Javi rolled his eyes, once he was quite sure Laura wasn’t looking. “Very good healing crystal.” She then threw a fistful of glitter in his face.

 

“Hey!” But the woman had already retreated back to her deck, mumbling nonsense incantations under her breath. Two suppressed sneezes later, she laid out three cards in a row.

 

“Because you are not interested in the past and do not like to think of your situation now, I will focus on your future,” the woman said abruptly. “Turn the left card over. No, don’t put the crystal down. Keep it clenched in your other fist as you do the cards. It is yours to keep.”

 

Javi turned the first card over, revealing a spinning wheel.

 

“Wheel of Fortune, reversed,” the fortune-teller remarked. “A card that signifies great change. In the reversed position, it represents change that is unwelcome, even bad luck. The next few years will be very hard on you--you will have a lot of changes in your life and feel that you are not in control of your destiny.”

 

Javi gave Laura a look, _You see why I want to quit?_

 

The next card was a little more complicated, of a woman pouring a pitcher of water into a pool, underneath a bird and a big star.

 

The fortune-teller smiled. “The Star, upright. This card is good. The star is a sign that provides inspiration and hope, a guide for the lost. The bird, a creature of a higher plane, awakened spiritual keenness. Your path will be hard, but your Star will shine light for you to see. With your Star watching over you, you will always know your way.”

 

The last card was a high castle in flames. The fortune-teller frowned.

 

“The Tower, upright,” she said, looking grave. “It is one of the hardest cards to understand, but with the other cards it is quite plain.”

 

Javi laughed.

 

“If you want to say I’m fucked, go ahead.”

 

“Javi!” Laura shrilled, but the woman only waved a hand and continued as if Javi had not spoken.

 

“The immediate conclusion is disaster, upheaval, chaos--clearly undesirable things, but such changes may be the needed impetus to move us forward. Above all, the Tower represents great change, a change in the status quo, a paradigm shift. But unlike the Wheel of Fortune, which moves us all with its capricious turns, the Tower’s change only seems sudden. Like the onset of a great storm, the Tower’s foretold disaster is one that should be foreseen, can be averted. But ignore the signs again and again and you will fall.” She steepled her fingers before breaking out into keening laughter. “I see you think this is a waste of time.”

 

“I don’t believe in fortune-telling,” Javi said, surprised by his own honesty. “That kind of stuff doesn’t appeal to me. Sorry.”

 

“As long as I get my two euros as payment, it does not matter to me, either,” the woman said, taking back the cards and slipping them into the deck. “Most of the young are like you, fierce people determined to make their own luck and way in the world. It is an admirable, but a hard road. Everyone needs someone to guide them.”

 

“You mean a Star?”

 

“Not everyone has a Star, or is in need of one,” the woman said as she accepted Laura’s payment. “But those who receive the Star usually do. Their Star is their most beloved person, their partner in life.” A look of mischief grabbed hold and she reached to pull out a large black box, with a small slit at the top, just room enough for one to slip a hand in and reach in. “Do you want to know who your Star is?”

 

Javi didn’t but with Laura glowering, it seemed rude not to accept. He reached in, felt around and pulled a white feather.

 

The fortune-teller choked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

 

“I did not put that there…” she muttered, looking uneasy. Javi wondered if she was still acting. Somehow the fortune-teller pulled herself together to explain.

 

“The swan...your star is the swan, the creature of balance and love, of grace and flight...it is a bird of tragedy, and dies at the height of its beauty, such a pitiable fate.” Her beseeching eyes unnerved Javi, who suddenly felt conscious of the suffocating heat of the tent, of the woman’s gnarled hand around his own. “You must take care of your Swan, or a great beauty will be lost to you and the world forever.”

 

After uttering a quick “sure”, Javi bolted from the tent just as Laura thanked the fortune teller for her time. After a few steps, It became easier to breathe and after feeling his pulse slow down to its normal rate, Laura was right behind him.

 

“Wasn’t that interesting, Javi?” she giggled. “And you looked so spooked!”

 

Javi looked up at the sky, the sun shining overhead. He exhaled and stuck his hands in his pockets.

  
“Waste of two euros,” he said and walked off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**  
>     
> [1] Javi and Laura moved with their mother from Madrid to Jaca so they could attend an elite figure skating school that offered to cover Laura's tuition and expenses. They end up moving back to Madrid two years later.
> 
> [2] Jaca, along with Huesca, play host to the Pyrenean Folk Festival, Spain's oldest and most recognized festival. It is hosted by the towns of Jaca and Huesca, on odd numbered and even numbered years respectively, and brings performing groups from all over the world.
> 
>  
> 
> **Next Chapter Preview: _La pluma caída_ (The fallen feather)**
> 
> Javi taps the kid’s shoulder and holds out the feather, a piece of the teen’s costume. “Hey, kid, I think you dropped something.”
> 
> Yuzuru Hanyu turns around, his eyes dark and uncomprehending. Oh, great, the kid didn't understand a word of English.


	2. La pluma caída (The fallen feather)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javier meets Yuzuru for the first time at the 2010 Cup of Russia. He thinks of him as a fashionably challenged wannabe senior. He reevaluates after watching him skate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two posts in two days? This fandom has possessed my heart and soul. Such is the power of Yuzuvier.

Javi is nervous. Hopefully it was the good kind of nervous. The kind that would help him win.

 

He relaxes when Morozov finally leaves the boards to go check up on his favorite female skater. Although Javi is grateful for the support, Morozov’s eagle-eyed scrutiny is still something he couldn’t quite get used to. Granted the man was brilliant, able to pinpoint exactly what Javi was doing wrong, to offer a hand in adjusting Javi’s posture or hold up his trailing leg.

 

(And if the man’s hands lingered on the small of his back a bit longer than he was comfortable with, Javi just had to grit his teeth and deal with it.)

 

With Morozov gone and two practiced jumps later--to his relief, his quad toe felt okay, though the triple axel still needed work--Javi breathes more freely and skates his way to the boards. He takes a sip of his drink and contents himself with watching the other skaters, with his eye on the top guys.

 

Patrick Chan hisses in triumph as he successfully lands his triple axel. The guy’s so good he had won Skate Canada just weeks ago despite having fallen four times. With two quads in his arsenal, the guy was nigh unbeatable as long as he skated somewhat clean. And to think that they’re the same age, and the huge gap in their skill levels...Javi tries not to dwell on the matter too much. He’s had too much practice with mulling.

 

Jeremy Abbott, another veteran GP finalist, forgoes the triple jumps to practice his upright spins. From what Javi can tell (not that his opinion is worth much, since his spins are atrocious, as Morozov constantly reminds him), it looks great, though Javi can also tell the American is not completely happy with his technique. He also keeps touching his boot and Javi wonders if Abbott, like him, has been having boot problems this season.

 

Javi’s just about to take a closer look at Tomas Verner’s triple axel when a skater rushes by and brushes up against his shoulder. It’s a soft touch, really, hardly a collision, but Javi jumps back and nearly loses his balance.

 

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” But the skater’s shot off like a dart, already halfway across to the other side. Javi looks down and to his surprise, there’s a sparkly purple feather clinging to his sleeve that was not there before.

 

“Must be his,” Javi mumbles and leaves the boards to go after the skater.

 

The skater isn’t hard to find. Not that singles men were known for being particularly large (a different story for pairs and dance, obviously), but this skater was dwarfed even in their group. He was just a kid to be honest, and had Javi not recognized the kid for who he was--Yuzuru Hanyu, newly crowned Junior World Champion earlier this year, he would have thought the kid was a junior skater who had somehow mixed up the dates and locations of his competitions.

 

 _He’s tinier in person._ Javi takes in the waif like appearance of the Japanese skater. His chosen short program costume seemed to pay homage to Johnny Weir’s fashion sense--which, of course, meant it was over the top and _interesting_ to say the least. The top was feathery, with the white and black halves liquidly abstract, and spared no expense on glitter and sparkly stones,  The asymmetrical purple accents on the arm and around the waist were a bit weird, Javi thinks, but seemed to work with the feathers the costume had going on. The black trousers, thankfully, seemed normal enough.

 

The kid’s been listening intently to his coach, a soft-spoken Japanese woman who carries--much to Javi’s amusement--a Pooh covered tissue box. She speaks rapidly, and though Javi cannot catch the words, she seems to radiate such an aura of reassurance that Javi feels comfortable enough to approach them when their conversation comes to an end.

 

Javi taps the kid’s shoulder and holds out the feather, a piece of the teen’s costume that had come off. “Hey, kid, I think you dropped something.”

 

Yuzuru Hanyu turns around, his eyes dark and uncomprehending. Oh great, the kid didn’t understand a word of English.

 

“Your feather. You bumped me just now. It fell off.” Javi feels a flush of embarrassment when the kid just continues to stare, first at the feather in Javi’s outstretched hand, as if it were the first time seeing it, before cocking his head in a weirdly bird-like manner to gaze at Javi.

 

“Thank you,” the kid’s coach says in heavily accented English and speaks to the kid in Japanese. The kid finally breaks his gaze and reaches out to take back the feather, black gloved fingers brushing against Javi’s palm.

 

Javi clears his throat. “Sure,” he says and skates off.

 

At the end of the warm-up, he sees the kid stumble on a triple flip. Perhaps the kid would have benefitted from staying junior top dog for at least another season, Javier thinks, as he puts on his blade guards.

 

**

 

Yuzuru Hanyu is fifth to skate. He looks solemn and does a strange cross like gesture with his arms as he glides to the center of the rink, head down as if in prayer. Javi wonders if the kid is religious, or just superstitious. He knows he should be warming up more because his skate is right after, but he’s a bundle of nerves and needs to get away from Morozov’s mumbling for a bit. Somehow, the thought of a fellow competitor (even if he was the new kid) being just as nervous was a little comforting to Javi.

 

The music starts. The kid lifts his head and _moves_.

 

It’s a beautiful performance, Javi admits, as he watches the kid work his arms in graceful, fluttering motions as he mimes the motions of a bird preparing for flight. Like a swan, Javi realizes, when he connects the announced title of the kid’s short program, “White Legend” from Tchaikovsky’s _Swan Lake._ The kid is intense, totally absorbed with his arm movements, his steps, before a breath, and jumps to land the most gorgeous triple axel Javi’s seen all season.

 

“That’s his strongest jump,” Javi overhears someone gushing from the stands.

 

The other two jumps aren’t quite as clean as the axel, and as the kid moves into his step sequence, Javi can see the kid’s arms flail a little but is impressed despite himself. There is a wild, free energy even in the imprecise arm movements suggestive of a bird, maybe a young swan, taking flight for the first time, a primal elegance that is mesmerizing to watch.

 

_You'd never think he was a junior just six months ago._

 

Stamina seems to be an issue. The poor kid’s gasping at the end and looks ready to faint but he fights to hold the ending pose, arms straight and aloft, head tilted skywards.

 

Not bad for his senior debut.

 

“What are you doing here, you’re up next!” Morozov’s scolding breaks the spell and Javi scrambles off to follow. Before he leaves, he sees the kid, bowing deeply to the crowd, one arm aloft and the other tucked to his chest, the swan taking his bow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**
> 
>  
> 
> [1] 2010 Cup of Russia was the first international competition where both Javi and Yuzu competed at. It was Yuzu's international senior debut season and though he did not medal, he pulled off a fantastic SP performance to rank number 6 overall in the short program.
> 
> [2] Yes, Yuzuru's 2010-11 SP Program was "White Legend". He actually performs this program several times later in his career as an EX performance. Lovely program and with an awesome costume to go with it. [Click here to see what the costume looks like.](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rm24R1z1JRQ/UmlxG-fkJfI/AAAAAAAAAwk/g0j4SGiW4_Y/s1600/Hanyu.JPG)
> 
>  
> 
> **Next Chapter Preview: _Las lágrimas de yuzuru_ (Yuzuru's tears)**
> 
>  
> 
> Javi slaps the offered tissue box away. "Please just leave me alone."
> 
> Yuzuru's face crumples. Javi instantly regrets his words.


	3. Las lágrimas de Yuzuru (Yuzuru's tears)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javi learns the hard way that the worst feeling is not from losing, but from taking it out on someone who is just trying to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's part two of our 2010 Cup of Russia arc!

Javi can’t breathe.

 

It takes every bit of his strength to hold it together for the change combination spin, but he might as well have just stomped with his skates and twirled around in a circle--it was that bad. And the smattering applause, oh God, that was the worst, Javi thinks as he blindly turns around to acknowledge the crowd, mentally apologizing to everyone present for his shittiest performance he’s ever performed; even his junior self might have done better. What he had just done, that was not figure skating, it was...well, Javi doesn’t know exactly how to describe the last four and a half minutes, maybe a farcical interpretation of what figure skating was actually supposed to look like.  His free skate program was supposed to be a half-serious, half playful rendition of Pirates of the Caribbean, mixing the drunken frolicking freedom of the pirate swordplay with the precise edgework of naval battle but as far as Javi’s concerned, he would have been no worse off if he had skated while actually drunk.

 

Morozov is grinning painfully as they sit down at the Kiss and Cry. Javi distracts himself with two stuffed animals he received as gifts--a cow and a bear, which smile at him with their plastic glued eyes. He is unworthy of them, but his hands need something to play with since they won’t stop shaking.

 

“Way off axis for your quad toe, singled the triple lutz, singled the triple flip and doubled the triple loop, lost speed on your spins, especially at the end." Morozov rattles off his mistakes in his usual clinically detached manner, all the while with his lips twitching into perfectly timed smiles for the cameras. Javi tries to follow suit but can only manage a choking facsimile of a laugh that sounds like a choking goat, perhaps a dying one to be more accurate.

 

The score is what Javi expects, but the blow of defeat still hits him hard. He’s out of medal contention now for sure. Not that he had a chance to begin with, but somehow a small part of him still foolishly dreamed. Well, it was all for nothing, wasn’t it? Javi thinks and viciously squeezes the cow’s neck as they leave the Kiss and Cry. Morozov gives him that awkward pat on the shoulder that’s supposed to be comforting, but only feels like another leaden weight that buckles down on him.

 

“There’ll be other tournaments, okay, Javi?” Morozov says, looking uncertain, but his eyes are already fixed on the next skater starting.

 

Javi waits until Morozov slips away to speak with the other coaches before he finds a bench in the corner and finally releases that sob he’s been holding back ever since his program ended. God, he can’t stop shaking, he thought he was over it, but the tears keep welling forth and though he wipes them away on his sleeve, they keep coming faster and faster as his throat gets stuck, his chest growing tight, and he starts gasping for breath when he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder. He stops in mid-sob just in time to see a small gloved hand withdraw. He turns around to face the hand’s owner, Yuzuru Hanyu, wearing one of the ugliest skating costumes he’s clapped eyes on (the feathered one from yesterday suddenly seemed more appealing). Javi feels the familiar burning of shame as he sniffles, coughing loudly as he stymies the tears.

 

“What do you want, kid?” Javi knows he could be politer, but he’s feeling oddly vulnerable. It’s been ages that he’s let himself cry--it wasn’t manly to cry--but when he does it, he wants it to be secret, safe from intrusive eyes.

 

“Your skate,” the Japanese kid says, eyes dark and piercing and knowing. Suddenly, Javi hates those eyes, they see too much, they see right through him. “Bad.”

 

Warmth rushes to his cheeks, only instead of the weakening feel of embarrassment, Javi feels his head pounding, pulsing with anger. Who was this kid to tell him that his skating was bad. Shit, of course, he knew his skating had been nothing short of a disaster but did he really have to go ahead and rub it in? To Javi’s fury, the tears come back again and his nose starts running.

 

“Skate bad, cry,” Yuzuru continues, nodding sagely. “Give tissue.” And he holds his Pooh.

 

Javi slaps the offered tissue box away. "Please just leave me alone."

 

Yuzuru's face crumples. Javi instantly regrets his words. Before he's realized it, he's raised his voice to a shout, loud enough that the nearby skaters are shooting them looks of concern. Javi’s anger leaves him and he feels nothing but exhaustion.

 

“Look, kid, I didn’t mean…”

 

To Javi’s dismay, the kid scurries away, leaving Javi alone with his thoughts, just as he wants. But somehow the silence now is worse than the one before, and presses in on him, cold and heavy.

 

A cluck of disapproval.

 

“I can’t believe you make him cry,” Japan’s Tatsuki Machida says. He was the first to skate in the free skate and had only skated slightly better than Javi himself and was likely to finish close to last as well. Despite that, the Japanese man is calm and poised, though his eyes seem to smolder when he speaks to Javi.

 

“It wasn’t my fault. He had to go and bother me.” Even as the words leave his mouth, Javi feels his argument is weak and is feeling smaller and smaller as Tatsuki continues to stare, his mouth curled up with disdain.

 

“He’s just a kid,” Tatsuki continues, speaking slowly. Javi suspects he’s doing it out of condescension and not just because his English was shaky. “He try to be nice to you, even use important warm up time. And you throw it in his face.” The man shakes his head.

 

If Javi could, he would melt and sink to the floor.

 

**

Javi forces himself to watch Yuzuru skate. And if he thought Tatsuki’s verbal lashing was bad, watching Yuzuru flail around is worse. The kid’s visibly tense throughout the whole program, his normally graceful arm movements seem more robotic now, his jump landings less certain in the second half. The poor kid is in over his head and even invalidates a combination jump by repeating his triple Lutz-double toe combo, a deadly mistake that costs him nearly seven points. He’s so drained that he even manages to inexplicably fall during his step sequence, but fights through to pick himself up again and to see his skate to the end. The audience members commend the boy for his effort by cheering loudly, but all Javi can see is the desolate look of disappointment on the kid’s face as he receives a warm, comforting hug from his coach.

 

“Pity about the Zayaking, rookie mistake there.” Javi inwardly groans. What was it with the other skaters coming up to start conversations with him? Evidently his dark aura of “don’t approach. I’m in a really shitty mood” didn’t seem to work on Patrick Chan, but then again, most things didn’t seem to faze the Canadian skating prodigy.

 

“He fought for it,” Javi says, suddenly feeling obligated to defend the kid’s subpar performance, given that he was probably responsible for it.

 

Patrick snorts and looks on coolly.

 

“It was a sloppy performance aside from the triple axel,” the Canadian says, jerking his head. “Kid’s got talent, but he’s way too emotional. You let personal feelings get in the way and you sink to the bottom before you know it.”

 

“Easy for a skating genius to say,” Javier snaps. “Not everyone can be as cool-headed as you.”

 

Patrick laughs in surprise. “I’m no skating genius. All of my success so far, I owe to hard work, determination and grit. Learning from mistakes is key to winning, but unfortunately, _some_ skaters don’t ever seem to get past the losing. See that kid there?” Patrick jabs a finger at the Kiss and Cry. “He’s going to remember this moment, that awful feeling. And if he’s even half as good as that killer triple axel he pulled out this competition, he’s going to remember what he did wrong, remember that weakness and get rid of it if he ever wants to succeed. I’m looking forward to see what that kid will bring to the ice when he’s strong enough to grow up, put away that dumb Pooh of his and bring his A-game. Those of us at the top will be waiting for him.”

 

The Canadian skater smiles once more before he leaves to resume his warm up, leaving Javi in a fouler mood than before.

 

 _Stupid Patrick, why does he pick the worst time to be right?_ Javi numbly struggles to collect his jumbled thoughts together. He tries and fails to avoid thinking uncharitable thoughts about the Canadian skater. He is so focused in not thinking about how hilarious it would be Patrick to fall on his opening quad that he only snaps back to reality when he hears a burst of Japanese.

 

“Hey, kid...Yuzuru!” Javi sees the kid walking quickly past him, still clutching his Pooh box as he is ushered away by his coach. Javi’s feet feel slow and heavy, somehow and his words seem to lose all strength when he looks at the kid, almost already out the double doors, but who turns around instinctively upon hearing his name.

 

“I’m sorry,” Javi says and is at a loss for words. He has never wished more than ever that he could speak Japanese, to tell the kid just how sorry he was, for lashing out when the kid was just trying to make him feel better.

 

He’s not sure if the kid understands him, but their eyes do meet and Javi braces himself as the kid gazes searchingly at him. The kid turns away to depart and Javi’s heart sinks.

 

But then the kid seems to change his mind when he turns around all the way towards Javi and gives him a thumbs up and a small smile before disappearing outside.

 

Javi laughs truly for the first time all weekend, his skates feeling inexplicably light. He walks back to the boards to watch the other skaters. Maybe he'll learn something.

 

He looks forward to meeting Yuzuru again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**
> 
> [1] Javi's free skate program for the 2010-11 season was to a "Pirates of the Carribean" medley, choreographed by his coach, Nikolai Morozov. He had a fairly disastrous free skate, even considering it was early in his senior career, and made several huge mistakes, including an odd fall immediately after his opening quad toe and popping three of his triple jumps and ended up finishing 10th (out of 12) in the free skate and 9th overall.
> 
> [2] Yuzuru's free skate program for the 2010-11 season was "Zigeunerweisen", otherwise known as the program with the name no fan can seem to pronounce. Yuzuru lost a lot of stamina, something that is characteristic of his free skates for the early part of his senior career due to his asthma problems, so it is unlikely that this would have changed even if Javi had not yelled at Yuzuru in this fic, but Yuzuru did have an odd fall during the step sequence part of his free skate and pretty much was in a state where he desperately needed his inhaler :O. Yuzuru ends up finishing 6th in the free skate and 7th overall.
> 
> **Next Chapter Preview: _Llamas azules_ (Blue Flames)**
> 
> Javi looks carefully before passing judgment. "Your costume's gotten a lot better this year. I hope your skating's improved as much?"
> 
> Yuzuru bares his teeth in a small, but somehow utterly terrifying grin. "I let my skate do talking for me."


	4. Llamas azules (Blue Flames)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru Hanyu, with a new Pooh in tow, stuns everyone with a stirring short program at the Nebelhorn. Javi doesn't quite know what to make of the skater or that strange white poof on his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who else was bummed out about Yuzu's withdrawal from Japanese Nationals this year due to influenza? :( 
> 
> Wishing the guy a speedy and complete recovery! We'll have to wait for a few months to see him fight for gold at 4CC and Worlds.
> 
> The silver lining is that with all of this extra free time _not_ stressing over Nationals means another update!

“Wow.”

 

Javi knew exactly who Brian was talking about. “Wow” was not a particularly descriptive word, but it was enough to convey that sense of amazement that seemed to follow wherever Yuzuru Hanyu went.

 

At sixteen years of age, Yuzuru Hanyu is still the youngest male skater competing at the Nebelhorn. But with the way he attacked the ice during yesterday’s practice, one would have absolutely no doubt of his place as a senior. The deep edges his blades cut, the triple axel that had somehow gotten even more height than before, even the quads (that was new) and their corresponding falls, though painful, were so smooth they were starting to look a little choreographed. The Japanese skater had been so intensely focused that the referee had to yell at him twice to get off the ice after practice had ended. _That_ had impressed Brian, who had good-naturedly ribbed Javi for his work ethic. Javi likes to think that his work ethic has improved since he parted ways with Morozov four months ago, but improved did not mean he was consistent.

 

But practice was just practice and it was the competition where the skating truly mattered.

 

Ten months have flown by since their last competition together. Last season had a less than stellar ending, and Javi still refuses to look back on Worlds. New coach, new season, new programs, a fresh start to redeem himself and put away his doubts for making figure skating the center of his life.

 

Javi’s still feeling out Brian as a coach, but he likes what they have so far. Their arrangement has been temporary, with the original deal for Brian to help coach Javi to prepare for the Nebelhorn and then it's up to Javi to decide where to go from there. That’s what Javi likes about him. Brian never pushes, but somehow still gets you to want to set those high expectations anyway. Although Brian hasn’t said a word about their temporary contract coming to an end, Javi has already made up his mind. Regardless of where he finishes for this competition, he wants to stick with Brian.

 

The men mill around the boards as the ice technicians bring the Zamboni to smooth out the ice for the short program. Much to Javi’s relief, he’s not the first to skate; that dubious honor goes to his Spanish compatriot, Javier Raya, or “the other Javi” as dubbed by Brian. Raya dethroned Javi at the Spanish championships last season, something that Javi’s still mad at. Even if he had lost precious warm up time after cutting his hand, his error-filled free skate had opened the door for Raya to snatch gold from underneath his nose.

 

“Remember to warm up your muscles but not too much,” Brian advises him. “The short is a sprint, not a marathon. You don’t want to wear yourself out before you’re on the ice. Put on some music if you like, whatever works for you. Try to stay in your space.” He glances sidelong to where Javier Raya is performing some complicated looking spin--on land, it looks awkward. “If you stay focused--you won’t get nervous.”

 

Easier said than done, but Javi appreciates the advice all the same. Javi walks on, with his earbuds silently hanging around his neck. He doesn’t take Brian’s advice. Even the thought of selecting which music to tune in to seems stressful.

 

Javi finds a quiet spot across from the kiss and cry that seems ideal. He closes his eyes and tries those meditative breathing exercises Jeffrey showed him last week. He’s not entirely sure if they work but at the very least, Javi isn’t thinking about falling on his quad while doing them.

 

Speaking of falling, he startles out of his meditative stupor when he feels something soft drop onto him.

 

“Sorry, so sorry!” Javi blinks and finds a Pooh bear plush in his lap. The plush is whisked away by a flustered Yuzuru Hanyu, who’s bowing and mumbling in mix of English and Japanese. There is a soft giggle and Javi sees two little girls dash off, giggling madly.

 

“Girl take Pooh, sorry,” Yuzuru says and scratches his head awkwardly as he tucks Pooh under his other arm.

 

“You got a new Pooh?” Javi says, and stands back up to stretch his legs. This Pooh, upon closer inspection, is also a tissue box, but is a cuddly iteration of the last one.

 

“Pooh is Pooh,” Yuzuru affirms, and does not seem to completely understand Javi’s comment. At least off ice, Yuzuru seems very much the same. Soft-spoken with a childish charm. He finds off-ice Yuzuru much less intimidating than his on-ice counterpart.

 

Easier to tease too, Javi grins with mischief and steps back to look at the skater’s costume. The blue was definitely striking to look at, though Javi isn’t sure what function the white floaty shoulder puff was supposed to have. Was it supposed to be a cloud? The kid’s gone crazy with the sparkles again, but at least there was some degree of sense to their placement. It was still extremely feminine for Javi’s taste but he could intellectually understand how the design flatters the skater’s lines.

 

Javi looks carefully before passing judgment. "Your costume’s gotten a lot better this year. I hope your skating's improved as much?"

 

And just like that, the gentle kid vanishes, leaving only an expression of bone-chilling intensity. The change in demeanor is so sudden Javi finds himself taken aback. Yuzuru bares his teeth in a small, but somehow utterly terrifying grin. "I let my skate do talking for me."

 

Javi gulps.

 

**

 

It was weird, Javi decides, not to have that crushing sense of abject disappointment and self-loathing after a skate.

 

Javi’s not happy with his short program and is still brooding over the quad toe that he put his hand down on and his mess of a triple axel, but is otherwise quite content with his short program. It’s early in the season, Brian reassures him, and it’s a good opportunity to use the competitive environment to identify his weaknesses and things to work on for the season. Javi holds his breath when he receives his score in the kiss and cry; he currently ranks third on the leaderboard, after Zhan Bush and Michal Brezina. So far, only Zhan’s managed to land a clean quad (a quad-triple combo no less!) and already putting pressure on the older skaters who don’t have quads in their programs.

 

Zhan’s not the only rookie to look out for. Kazahkstan’s Denis Ten pulls ahead of Javi into third by less than a point despite not having any quads in his program. A lull in the audience as more skaters have their turn on the ice. There’s a lot of messy skating, with floods of underrotation and edge calls; hardly anyone has a clean program.

 

The lull dies down to a near silent hush when Yuzuru takes the ice. Everyone, Javi included, is excited to see another clean quad attempt.

 

No good, Yuzuru steps out of his opening quad toe and Javi can see the kid grimace but Yuzuru recovers instantly and moves smoothly across the ice, his transitions clean and precise. A counter-turn and then a triple axel out of literally nowhere. Javi gasps and hurriedly converts it into a cough before anyone notices, but is gratified to hear he’s not the only one shocked. The flying camel spin that follows after the step sequence is stunningly fast, liquidly graceful, embellished by the crescendo of piano notes and the feather light scratches of blades carving on ice.

 

Before Javi realizes, his hands move together to clap right on the last note. Brian, sitting next to him, quirks his mouth into a bemused smile before joining him.

 

“Quite beautiful, wasn’t he?”

 

Javi only absently nods.

 

“Beautiful,” he says.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**
> 
> [1] Javi leaves Nikolai Morozov after the 2010-11 season to temporarily train under Brian Orser. He skates to a medley of "I Love Paris" by the Witnesses and "Petit Fleur" by Henri René, the short co-choreographed by David Wilson and Jeffrey Buttle. He finishes 6th in the short program. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5TpjAv48PNE) to see his Nebelhorn SP performance.
> 
> [2] Yuzu's Pooh tissue box undergoes another stage in evolution and becomes the Pooh plush we all know and love. It makes its debut appearance during the 2010-11 season and has been to (with the exception of Sochi Olympics) every single one of Yuzu's competitions.
> 
> [3] Yuzu skates to Scriabin's "Etude in D-Sharp Minor, Op. 8, No. 12", a piano piece notoriously known for its technically difficult passages (which is befitting because it's the second most technically difficult among the men short programs for this competition). It is also Yuzu's first program featuring a quad, which he doesn't yet land cleanly. His figure skating costume for this program is the famous "Blue Flames" costume, which is later used as the cover photo for his first autobiography published in 2012 entitled "Blue Flames". Click [here](https://sportymags.files.wordpress.com/2015/01/img_4466.jpg) to see his costume. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dlhklHXqNtk) to see his Nebelhorn SP performance.
> 
> **Next Chapter Preview: _Un lugar llamado vértigo_ (A place called vertigo)**
> 
> Yuzuru's eyes fasten onto Javi. With practiced ease, he smooths his hair with one hand, the other flat on his midriff and _rolls_ his hips sensually. And smirks.
> 
> Javi's jaw drops. _This kid..._


	5. Un lugar llamado vértigo (A place called vertigo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javi breaks the good news to Brian to make the Canadian coach’s day. In other news, Yuzuru steals the show at the exhibition gala. Javi thinks it’s a crime for a sixteen year old pipsqueak to look that hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be taking a break in a few days to spend the holidays with the family so expect a short hiatus during the holidays. It's a bit rushed, and I may do a few edits here and there but I wanted to leave you all with an early Christmas gift! Here's part two of the 2011 Nebelhorn Trophy!

The first thing Brian does after his free skate is pull him into a one armed hug and shoulder pat. Javi jumps slightly in surprise but returns the gesture, still feeling the adrenaline lingering in him as they settle in the kiss and cry.

 

“Strong fight you put out there, Javi, I think you’re finally getting an understanding of your program,” Brian was saying, cheeks rosy with pride. “I know you’re thinking about the jumps but look at the progress you’ve made on your steps and spins, you really held it together.”

 

“I feel pretty good,” Javi admits and is surprised to find out that he does. The memory of the tripled opening quad, while still troubling, doesn’t bother him as much as it would have last year. Brian claps his shoulder when they release Javi’s score. 137.59, which puts him into second, right behind American Max Aaron who had underrotated his opening quad. Never had the podium looked so close.

 

“Rough country for the quad attempts,” Brian remarks and Javi agrees. Again, no one’s been able to land a clean quad yet in the free skate despite over half the men having finished and some of the remaining half resolutely abstaining from trying for fear of injury. Falling on the ice wasn’t exactly a cakewalk but Javi feels the quads are worth the risk. Figure skating _was_ a sport after all.

 

“Some things you should think about working on are improving your skating skills and pacing out your stamina for the free,” Brian says when they leave the kiss and cry. There’s a roar from the crowd when Russian Konstantin Menshov follows up on his fellow countryman’s feat from the short program yesterday and executes a clean quad-toe, double-toe combo. Brian stops in case Javi wants to watch, but Javi doesn’t seem interested and looks oddly pensive, like he’s waiting for something. Then Brian realizes and quickly hastens to explain and soothe Javi’s nerves.

 

“You’ve a good foundation, Javi and if you keep working at it, I have absolutely no doubt you will go far.I want you to know that even after our coaching contract’s ended, you can always email me if you have any questions--”

 

“I want you to coach me for real,” Javi blurts out. Brian stops in mid-sentence, eyes wide and mouth falling open in shock. “I already decided before the flight, but I couldn’t figure out the right time to tell you.”

 

“I--” Brian’s mouth is still flapping open and to Javi’s amusement, the normally eloquent man seems to be at a loss for words. “You’re--you’re sure? You want me to continue to work with you?”

 

“I can’t think of anyone else I want as my coach,” Javi reassures him. A beat. “Well, if you’re okay with putting with me…”

 

Brian positively beams. They hug, this time, more enthusiastically. Javi feels like he’s the luckiest skater in the world.

 

**

 

Yuzuru wins his first international skating title at the Nebelhorn, easily beating out Michel Brezina and Stephen Carriere. No one is surprised after yesterday’s short program. Javi’s second placing falls back to fourth, but he expects it and feels satisfied with his overall result. Brian is already excitedly mapping out their strategy to prepare for Javi’s Grand Prix assignments. He only pauses to catch a breath when they watch the newly crowned Nebelhorn champion struggle to balance the large shiny Nebelhorn trophy, flower bouquet, and glass plaque in his arms as he steps off the podium.

 

Carriere, the gracious American that he was, looks like he wants to help when the Japanese skater tilts dangerously to the side, but Yuzuru only smiles and manages to right himself back up. There’s a ripple of cooing from a gaggle of Japanese figure skating fans when the Japanese skater forgets to make his victory lap with Brezina and Carriere and he hurries out back to the center to the ice, somehow managing not to drop everything he was carrying.

 

“He’s definitely one to watch out for,” Brian says. “I imagine we’ll see him again soon.”

 

**

 

Having the youngest skater place first was certainly the surprise of the event, but just when Javi thinks he’s getting a lock-on how the kid’s mind works, Yuzuru goes and upends everyone’s expectations again when it’s his turn to skate at the gala.

 

Javi doesn’t know what exactly to expect when he settles to watch; it’s his first time enjoying the gala. He’s never placed high enough before at a major competition to qualify for an exhibition skate, so it’s a nice change in pace. Unlike the short program and free skate, there isn’t an impersonal panel of judges scoring every move you make on the ice with hawk-like attention but it’s almost disconcerting to skate without the expectation of receiving a numerical score.

 

The Japanese skater removes his jacket before he steps onto the ice, clad in a casual black tank and trousers, his slim arms naked before the moving spotlights. It’s a jarringly simple outfit, Javi realizes, as he’s become accustomed to seeing the kid swaddled in feathers and sparkles.

 

There’s the sound of rhythmic tapping drumsticks as the music starts.

 

_Uno, dos, tres... catorce!_

 

Javi jerks his head in recognition of his mother tongue and watches as Yuzuru pumps his arms out and proceeds to _rock out_ to U2’s “Vertigo.”

 

There’s a gasp as Yuzuru opens with a huge spinning jump kick followed by the twizzles. Javi had thought he had a good measure of the kid’s skating speed, but the kid impossibly _flies_ across the ice, with a new frenetic energy to match with the music’s equally fast tempo. It’s flashy, it’s a crowd pleaser, and even a little scandalous to watch, Javi thinks as the skater moves, his hands all over his body, fingers running through his hair, fingers touching his chest, hands sliding down his thighs as he slides into a squat, with little hand pump flourishes in between the spins.

 

_Hello, hello... (Hola)_

_I'm at a place called Vertigo (dónde estás?)_

 

The kid loses some steam as he transitions into his favorite triple axel and Javi can already tell the kid’s not going to make it right when the kid’s knee gives out and he collapses onto the ice. He quickly gets back up only to turn around and slide down on the ice on both knees like a rock star jamming out, perfectly in time with the guitar riffs. The kid looks completely relaxed and Javi can see the kid smile as he turns and slides face down, his face almost to the ice surface, stretched out like a lazy kitten only to kneel straight back up, chest puffed out and hands gesturing at himself in a cheeky “check me out” gesture.

 

_They twinkle as the boys play rock and roll--_

 

Javi immediately regrets his chosen seat in front of the Japanese fan legion, who titter and giggle like schoolgirls. Which is honestly distracting. Besides, their reactions are totally unwarranted--it was kind of cute, to see the kid skating so freely, to music that he clearly seems to like though one wouldn’t know it from the kid’s programs--but it wasn’t like the kid was an _actual_ rock star.

 

And then the kid pauses on the ice, facing Javi.

 

_They know that they can’t dance--_

 

Yuzuru's eyes fasten onto Javi. With practiced ease, he smooths his hair with one hand, the other flat on his midriff and _rolls_ his hips sensually. And smirks.

 

Javi's jaw drops. _This kid…_

 

The fans behind him completely lose it, screaming out with glee. Someone wolf-whistles. Yuzuru grins and tosses his head, stretching his arms out behind him like a bird sunning itself in the sun ( _I can feeeeeeeel_ ), then bending impossibly way back like a contorted pretzel into the deepest Ina Bauer Javi’s ever seen--he didn’t even know that men were capable of that kind of flexibility. And then, for kicks, a perfectly circular hydroblade, a flashy move that Javi’s only seen done in ice dance.

 

The skater isn’t done yet; feeding off the audience’s energy, he’s on a roll and follows it up with what looks like an insane attempt at a quad only to fall backwards in the funniest fall ever. Yuzuru laughs like a little boy as he lays still for a moment, his back hugging the ice before getting up, running quickly and flying into a change foot combination spin that whirls so fast the back of his tank rides up from his waist (another scream from fans) and finally finishes his routine with an air guitar strumming, eliciting another cacophony from his fans and subsequently ruining Javi’s hearing probably for life.

 

The crowd roars to its feet calling for an encore. As the kid nonchalantly poses, hands on his hips only to clap them in front of his face into a sheepish bow, Javi feels his heart beat faster in anticipation. The kid might have won Nebelhorn, but Javi’s taking Rostelecom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**
> 
> [1] Javi's 2011-12 free skate program is to classical music (shock!), a medley of Guiseppe Verdi's operatic works, La Traviata, I Vespri Siciliani and Nabucco Rigoletto. He places 4th in the free skate and fourth overall, beating out Zhan and Max Aaron and just missing the podium. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYing06WqeI) for a link to his FS performance.
> 
> [2] Javi confirms his continued coaching arrangement with Brian Orser at the end of the Nebelhorn Trophy, with the plan for Brian to help Javi with his stamina, spins (a weakness for our Spaniard!) and his skating skills. 
> 
> [3] I skipped over Yuzuru's FS in favor of covering his EX skate, my apologies to readers who were looking forward to that but you'll get a closer look at Romeo & Juliet 1.0 at the Rostelecom Cup in the next chapter! Yuzuru fails to cleanly land his opening quad again, but garners enough points to place 1st in the free skate and of course, 1st overall to become the 2011 Nebelhorn Trophy champion. It's his first international victory in his senior career so an exciting moment for him. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iLgypNcQo-E) for a link to his FS performance and [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=43b3UlAYQ4M) for a link to the victory ceremony for men.
> 
> [4] For Yuzuru's EX at Nebelhorn, he skates to "Vertigo", his EX program from last season, which we only got to see a few times because Yuzu did not rank high enough at most of his events to showcase this EX. As you can guess, it's a _little_ on the sexy side. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o9N9mvAfpjY) for a link to his EX performance at the gala.
> 
> **Next Chapter Preview: _La lucha por el oro_ (The fight for gold)**
> 
> "Aren't you nervous, even just a little?" Javi asks, a little curious.
> 
> Yuzuru's eyes glows with an inner fire. "Why nervous? I go for gold."


	6. La lucha por el oro (The fight for gold)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javi, fresh from his podium finish at Skate Canada, is hungry for a second medal at the 2011 Rostelecom Cup. He returns to Moscow eager for a revenge skate after last season's disastrous skate at Worlds; however, an unexpected appearance from his ex-coach puts a wrench in Javi's plans for victory...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack. And thank you so much for the holiday wishes! I had a lovely Christmas with my family and am back into writing mode before the New Year. New Year's Day is not a big thing in our household (we save that for the Lunar New Year in February...), so I expect to resume a more regular writing schedule.
> 
> It was such a nice surprise to get so much feedback for El cisne AND The Universal Law of Yuzuru :) Seriously, each comment was like a surprise Christmas gift! It'll take me some time but I'll definitely respond to every one of the comments.
> 
> Until then, please enjoy the next chapter of El cisne, covering the first part of the 2011 Rostelecom Cup. Practice and off-ice footage was REALLY difficult to find, so there is a lot of creative license with the non-competitive elements here.

“There are so many people!” is Javi’s first thought when they first arrive at the Ice Palace Megasport in Moscow. It’s not his first time competing in this venue--in fact, it was only less than a year ago since that disastrous skate at Worlds last season and there were a lot of people then, not that he had been in the right headspace to be aware of it--but he is surprised to find so many people attending a GP qualifier event. Brian only laughs, and plays with his coach’s lanyard as they walk briskly past the check-in area and straight onto the ice for practice.

 

“It’s Russia, after all! They’re second to none for their figure skating enthusiasm and it definitely shows in their sold out crowds. It’s a great chance for you get to some practice skating to a bigger audience; the dynamic will be similar but also very different from Skate Canada.”

 

“Less of an away game reception? Do they make an exception for all Europeans?” Javi asks, remembering Skate Canada. Now _that_ had been a fight, but a thoroughly satisfying one. It was his first podium finish, as well as his personal and season’s bests. He had been waiting for years to achieve that kind of a result. And the icing on the cake--how cool had it been to snag the SP win from home crowd favorite  & 2011 World Champion, Patrick Chan? Brian had been beside himself with glee--though the man also admitted that as a Canadian, he was obligated to reserve ¼ of his glee to commiserate with Patrick’s less than stellar short.

 

“They won’t admit it, but the Russians fall in love with anyone who skates well.” Brian sets their things down by the boards and pulls out the schedule. “Just skate your best, and you’ll bring the crowd to its feet. Try to have fun out there.”

 

It seemed contradictory to Brian’s rigorous training methods--which included not only the evil endless stroking exercises of boredom but also the equally heinous full program run-throughs--but the man seemed to place an odd emphasis on enjoying one’s skate during competition, a concept Javi was still trying to wrap his head around. On one hand, it made sense: enjoying the skating certainly made Javi more motivated to keep doing it, but on the other hand, a Javi who had fun was also a Javi prone to mistakes. The best Javi could do at this point was to try to meet his coach halfway--to let a little of himself show on the ice but also to keep a firm handle on how he was projecting his interpretation of the program and nailing all of the technical elements he had planned. When he had attempted to explain his thought process, Brian had only given him an expression like he’d seen Javi sprout another head.

 

“How do you handle all of that thinking and not explode?” Admittedly, Javi doesn’t know how he has been doing it either, but it seemed to be working for him so far.

 

Until it doesn’t.

 

The triple lutz is hardly Javi’s favorite jump, but he hasn’t quite flubbed it this badly even in practice. With a hand down and an awkward twist, he instinctively manages to avoid crashing headlong into the boards just in time. Brian’s already heading over, looking panicked but Javi only gives him a thumbs-up, indicating that he was fine; aside from a sore butt, he was uninjured.

 

Javi reaches for the boards to get up when someone offers him a hand.

 

“Thanks,” Javi says and accepts Sergei Voronov’s hand. The Russian skater offers a sheepish smile. The last time Javi’s seen him was two summers ago, when he was still with Morozov. They had had different GP assignments last season so they did not see much of each other; in fact, Javi was amazed to see Sergei at all, given the severity of his leg injury during Cup of China that forced him to a hasty end for the rest of the season.

 

“You good, Javi?” Sergei’s smile seems a little forced, and Javi’s not sure exactly how to respond either. It is no fault against Sergei, but Javi prefers to avoid thinking altogether. He is already off his usual rhythm and he know it’s going to cost him points in the short program to follow.

 

“I’ve been good,” Javi says, when good manners wins over common sense and he realizes it’s rude to just leave someone trying to start a conversation. “How’s your leg?”

 

“Oh! Leg is fine,” Sergei says and consciously lays a hand on the mentioned leg. He purses his lips like he wants to say something more, but there’s a burst of Russian from the boards behind him and Javi feels his heart drop to a subzero chill.

 

“I see your jump landings still need work, Javi,” Javi pulls away from the boards, turning round to face his former skating coach. What do you say to this inscrutable man, who you owe everything for their taking a leap of faith in your unknown talent, taking you under their wing for a chance to be the best, only to toss you away in favor of a star that is even brighter? “In fact, they look even worse now.”

 

“Morozov…” And to Javi’s shame, he can’t even find any words to fight back. Sergei looks horribly uncomfortable, as if he would rather be anywhere in the world than a witness in this conversation. _That makes two of us_ , Javi thinks miserably, as he continues to stand, transfixed as Morozov continues a scarring litany of Javi’s failings as a skater.

 

“Excuse me.” Thank God, it’s Brian, who comes to Javi’s rescue like a fierce bear defending her cubs. Brian is not a tall man, but from the way he puffs out his chest and rolls his shoulders back, you wouldn’t even have the impression that he was that much shorter than Morozov.

 

“Brian.” Nikolai Morozov only smiles and extends a hand in greeting, which Brian looks at but does not accept.

 

“It would be wise, Nikolai, if you refrain from speaking to my skaters.” Javi starts--he has never heard Brian’s voice sound quite so sharp, not even from that time he skipped out on practice once in favor of watching Real Madrid clobber Real Zaragoza in a historic lopsided victory.

 

“I was only offering advice, no harm in that surely?”

 

“I understand you two have a history together,” Brian is speaking quietly, but there’s a noticeable bite to his words. “But that is neither here nor there.  Javi is _my_ skater and I’d appreciate it if you respect that. Surely, you would feel the same way if some stranger walked up and started giving Mr. Voronov some advice on his choreography? Unsolicited advice is not welcome, either on or off the ice.” Then Brian proceeds to dismiss Morozov and turn his full attention to his skater. “Javi, I’d like to see another run through of your step sequence.”

 

Javi has never quite been so eager to oblige and follows after Brian, _his_ coach, on the other side of the ice.

 

**

 

Javi would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a certain vindictive pleasure in kicking Sergei down to fourth on the leader board after his short program. He tells himself that seeing the grim look on Morozov’s face has nothing to do with it and basks in Brian’s reassuring presence as they review his short program performance.

 

“You were stiff going into the combination jump, do you feel that you have an issue with the timing?” Brian asks as they settle to watch the next skater wearing a familiar costume of brilliantly deep blue, step onto the ice.

 

“No, I think it’s just a mental thing,” Javi says and chooses not to elaborate, to avoid thinking about the doubled lutz. He and Brian both wince simultaneously when Yuzuru Hanyu goes down hard on the ice on his opening quad toe.

 

“I don’t think he’s had success in landing that in competition so far,” Javi observes. “It’s costing him points, isn’t it? Wouldn’t it be better if he took the quad out?”

 

Brian shakes his head and thoughtfully watches the Japanese skater move through his spins, which he notes are cleaner and faster than ever.

 

“It’s odd to see him fall on that quad toe, considering that he’s landed it consistently during practice, and is even looking at the quad sal already,” Brian says and laughs at Javi’s gaping expression. “You mean, you didn’t see him? He was actually watching you like a hawk during practice while you were practicing your quad salchow...I think he caught me looking and got embarrassed but I did see him trying them towards the end of practice.”

 

 _Two quads at the age of sixteen..._ the idea is just mind boggling to Javi but he can’t help but feel a little excited. Just like all of the other men competing this season, Javi can feel a change on the horizon, the quad revolution that the media’s always talking about. The pressure to add at least one quad was definitely on, and only the best men with superior skating skills could afford to go without. Playing it safe was a gambit with every competition.

 

“He’s got great spinning technique,” Brian offers as they watch Yuzuru moves through his last element, the change combination spin. “Level 4’s on all non-jumping elements, no doubt. He’s made a lot of progress since Nebelhorn. It would be interesting to see if he ends up qualifying for the Final, wouldn’t it?”

 

“To do that, he needs to place first,” Javi says. “And I, for one, am not going to make it easy for him.”

 

They see Yuzuru take first place on the leader board with a season’s and personal best SP score of 82.78.

 

“It seems he disagrees,” Brian whistles.

 

American Jeremy Abbott, next to skate, pulls off a flawless short program and a personal best SP score of 83.54, bumping Yuzuru down to second and Javi down to third. Javi’s bumped to fourth when Michal Brezina skates clean, though everyone’s surprised when the Czech skater opts to forgo a planned quad in favor of playing it safe. The three men--Jeremy, Yuzuru and Michal--round out the top three for the night.

 

Though Brian decides to head back to the hotel, Javi decides to stick around for the press conference afterwards. It’s really to avoid having to see Morozov again--the thought of being on the same bus as his former coach is just too much for Javi, but Javi also thinks it isn’t bad to get a feel of his fellow competitors. During the press conference, they field questions from the reporters. Jeremy is congratulated for his stunning jazz performance while Michal testily defends a question regarding his decision to drop his quad.

 

“In the short program, even a little mistake may cost you a lot of points, so I just want to skate clean and until my quad is 100% reliable,” Brezina explains, looking peeved. Everyone can sense his disdain towards skaters who have the audacity to attempt quads without consistency in competition. Fortunately, his words which seem pointed towards one particular SP podium finisher were lost on the skater.

 

Yuzuru spends most of the conference with a bewildered look as he bends his head closer to catch his translator’s words. When a question regarding his thoughts on the possibility of the GPF should he manage to skate well for the free skate tomorrow, he pauses before leaning forward to the microphone to speak.

 

“I feel no extra pressure because of a possibility of qualifying for the ISU Grand Prix Final,” his translator states on the Japanese skater’s behalf. “In fact, I do not think about my placement at all. I am entirely focused to the free skating tomorrow.”

 

Javi wishes he has the sixteen year old’s level of confidence.

 

**

During the free skate warm up, Javi’s got avoiding Morozov down pat; he moves through his warm up routine with more energy than usual and Brian looks a little concerned when Javi gets a little too enthusiastic about practicing his jumps. He tells him to take it easy and cool his head after getting off the ice. But Javi can’t seem to stand still and takes to prowling the boards, pacing the main hallway and back to the off-ice warm up area.

 

He spots Yuzuru with a fellow Japanese skater. Javi doesn’t follow the ladies very closely, but any skater would recognize Mao Asada, one of the most iconic figures in figure skating. The 2010 World Champion, despite her victory in ladies singles just hours ago, looks weary, melancholic, as if the weight of the world weighed on her shoulders. But she smiles a little when Yuzuru offers her a kiss from his Pooh tissue box, which she accepts and then cuddles the bear. They hug and exchange a few soft words, their heads close together as Yuzuru listens on solemnly; it’s an oddly intimate moment and Javi feels like he’s intruding. He backs away, only to trip over someone’s half-open carry on.

 

“Sorry--sorry!” Javi babbles, feeling like an absolute idiot. The two Japanese skaters stare as Javi scrambles to his feet. Mao asks what sounds like a question and Yuzuru answers back in Japanese. Mao laughs and ruffles Yuzuru’s hair like a little kid’s before handing Pooh back to Yuzuru and leaving Yuzuru alone with Javi.

 

“You ok?” Yuzuru asks Javi after the silence stretched between them is too long for their comfort.

 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, thanks for asking.” There’s another long pause before Javi interjects, “Your skate yesterday, it was good.”

 

It takes Yuzuru so long to respond that Javi wonders if his Spanish accent is thicker than he thought. He’s about to repeat himself when the boy speaks slowly, his English halting, but comprehensible.

 

“Yesterday...over. Finish. Today start over. Free skate.” The boy's face was calm, a picture of absolute serenity.

 

“Aren’t you nervous, even just a little?” Javi asks, a little curious.

 

Yuzuru’s eyes glow with an inner fire. “Why nervous? I go for gold.”

 

“Even if you fall on your quad toe?”

 

Yuzuru cocks his head, as if listening to something far away.

 

“Fall is fall. Skate is skate,” he finally says and walks off to the boards.

 

Javi wonders.

 

**

Javi breathes and then lets go. There is nothing else in the arena but him and the ice.  _La traviata,_ the first part of Javi's free skate program music wells up. It starts off slow, building the dramatic crescendo when Javi slows, rotates and kicks off with his toe pick into his opening quad toe. He lands this one perfectly and feels the rush of exultation as he raises his arms up in the air with the music. Then it's on to his next quad, his quad sal, the jump that he's been having trouble with in practice, yet incredibly there is no hesitation as Javi crosses over, the violin notes entering the fray of melody and then finds himself flying over with the ice to meet him as he lands his quad sal. There is a roar of approval from the audience but Javi hardly notices as he's focused on getting the timing for his triple axel-triple toe combination, which he also lands.

 

Then, for a change in pace.  _I Vespri Sicilani_ , unlike  _La traviata_ , is light, quick and happy; the circular step sequence is not Javi's strength, but he puts all he can into the steps, taking care to ensure the hops and turns are dance-like and look effortless. He's not sure how convincing he is but he catches Brian's eye before he moves into his change foot sit spin and his coach gives him an encouraging nod.

Another change, with the program built to highlight Javi's versatility as a skater. If _La traviata_ showed the power of his jumps and _I Vespri Sicilani_ the delicate precision of his steps,  _Nabucco_ is intended to merge his artistry and technical skill into his second set of jumps, all backloaded in the second half for the extra 10% bonus. Javi finds it a struggle to switch from the languid ease of the transitions and straight into the power of his jumps. He fights for the landing of his solo triple axel and much to his frustration, he doubles the intended triple-lutz, triple-toe combo. It's only through sheer grit he saves the triple salchow and follows it up with the oddest combo ever: what's intended to be a triple-flip, double toe suddenly degrades into a singled flip, double toe, with a single loop tacked on the end just for the hell of it. Javi doesn't even know how many points he's lost already.

 

 _Fall is fall. Skate is skate._ Why is Javi recalling the boy's words at such a critical time?  _Fuck this_ , Javi digs down hard and pulls out a triple loop. The landing's rough but Javi's already put the jumps behind him. The spins during  _Rigoletto_ demand Javi's complete focus. He braces himself for a split jump as the music intensifies. Javi can feel his strength ebbing way as he ekes out his last combination spin, but he forces himself to rotate and finally, it is done. Javi is spent but to stand out on the ice, watching the audience cheer--his heart soars to see the cluster of  _Espanya_ flags waving in the corner--Javi feels content.

 

Brian gives him his hug and all Javi can do is bleat out how tired he is. Brian is as pleased as punch when they receive Javi's score. It's not his season's best but it's damn close and easily puts him in the lead. Although Javi tries to play it cool, he can't help but clap a little to celebrate. 

 

There's three more skaters to go.

 

**

 

Michal Brezina reduces the number of quads from two to one in his free skate, but even with the reduction in difficulty the Czech skater is unable to pull off a clean free skate and falls into second behind Javi. A podium finish is guaranteed for Javi, but Javi does not know if it'll be good enough for the GPF.

 

Yuzuru, next to skate, shows what it means to put up one hell of a fight. Though he acknowledges the cheers of the audience, he seems to sink into his own world, to dive into the persona of Romeo--who Javi wouldn’t have ever guessed if Brian hadn’t told him. Javi supposes that the ruffled shirt and sleeves gave off a decidedly more masculine and possibly Shakespearean look compared to the skater’s SP outfit with the white floof, but the champagne colored front and the crossed rhinestone chest belts(?)--Javi decides he will never understand the mysteries of the Japanese skater's fashion sense. He probably doesn’t want to, anyway, but at least he can appreciate how the skater takes immediately command of the ice, raising his hands and spinning sharply into his opening sequence.

 

There’s a collective breath of anticipation as Yuzuru transitions into his opening quad--which should really be called quad toe fall at this point--Javi thinks as the kid puts out his hands to stop himself from smacking face first into the ice. Javi can see that the rotations look good but the way the kid just careens off axis when he overrotates (how the hell does one overrotate a quad?) in the air and is too unstable to rescue the landing. The failed quad is quickly forgotten when Yuzuru pulls off another textbook perfect triple axel and Javi thinks how lucky it must be for the kid to excel at such a difficult jump.

 

There’s a pause, a tonal shift in the music as the program moves into the second half. Javi can see how Yuzuru slows down, breathing hard through his mouth, seemingly mouthing unspoken words through the tranquil part of the program, haunted eyes staring at something he can only see (perhaps this was the Romeo shining through?). The ice flies when he lands his combination jump and then the look of surprise, when he trips and falls down during his step sequence.

 

The second fall, unlike the first, is so unexpected, the spell the kid has cast over the audience seems to evaporate. Yuzuru seems to know it too and Javi can sense the frustration that’s rolling off the kid as he sluggishly fights through his triple loop-double toe combination jump and then gathers what’s left of his energy into draw everyone back into his skate with an intense choreographic sequence, with powerful arm gestures and crossovers that bite deep into the ice. To conclude, he jumps through a triple salchow and straight into a flying combination spin, rotating faster and upwards--and holy shit, was that a _Biellmann spin--_ how the hell did the kid not snap his back doing that--before staggering, his hands to his chest, miming a dagger to his heart and throwing his arms out in a pose of triumph. The kid’s laughing, looking utterly pleased despite his two falls, his tongue sticking out as he catches his breath, relishing the positive energy received from the audience.

 

This is the moment when Javi understands what it means to enjoy skating in competition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**
> 
> [1] A bit more on Javi's break with Morozov. In interviews, he's mentioned that he left Morozov for two main reasons: 1) because the strain of having to move constantly with Morozov to stay as a student was too much for him; 2) because Morozov prioritized the development and coaching of his European rival, Florent Amodio, representing France during the 2011 European Championships.
> 
> [2] Javi goes into the 2011 Rostelecom Cup with a very good chance of making the GPF. Actually, the 2011 Rostelecom Cup was the most exciting event of the GP circuit in that it featured three skaters with a real contention for getting a GPF spot. Patrick Chan, Daisuke Takahashi and Michal Brezina had already claimed the first three spots (Michal also took the option of opting for 3 GP qualifier so he did not even need to place at Rostelecom as his spot in the GPF was guaranteed). Jeremy Abbott needs least a top 4 finish since he won gold at his first GP assignment. Javi wins a silver at Skate Canada and needs at least a top 2 finish to qualify. Yuzuru's in the toughest spot in that he finished 4th at Cup of China (literally just .22 points behind Song Nan, the bronze medalist) and needs to win gold at Rostelecom to nab the last GPF spot.
> 
> [3] Russian skater, Sergei Voronov, had to withdraw from his first GP assignment (2010 Cup of China) after sustaining an injury during the short program and had to withdraw from competitive skating for the rest of the season. The poor guy seems to be especially injury prone, even as a junior skater.
> 
> [4] Both of Michal and Yuzuru's comments during the press conference are actual quotes.
> 
> [5] Japanese skater, Mao Asada (who really needs no introduction), takes gold at the 2011 Rostelecom Cup after placing first in both the SP and the FS, thereby earning a spot during the GPF. For any observant FS fans conscious of Mao's career at this point, you can take a guess as to what might have transpired between her conversation with Yuzuru. Cookies to anyone who can guess correctly!
> 
> [6] Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mAAIwkVzEPg) for Javi's free skate to a medley of Guiseppe Verdi's operas.
> 
> [7] Yuzuru skates to "Romeo & Juliet 1.0", which is the unofficial name for his first Romeo & Juliet program, a really cool cut of "O Verona" & "Kissing You" from Romeo + Juliet (the Leonardo Di Caprio version) and "Escape" from Plunkett & Macleane, an entirely different movie. The program is choreographed by none other than Nanami Abe, Yuzuru's coach. Click [here](https://sportymags.files.wordpress.com/2015/01/img_6894.jpg) to see what his FS costume looks like. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zeP4CHa6zSk) to watch his FS at 2011 Rostelecom.
> 
> **Next Chapter Preview: _Alguien a quien amar_ (Somebody to love)**
> 
> "Oh...so you changed your program this time." Javi says. "You like Justin Bieber?"
> 
> Yuzuru shrugs. "It ok." And then a burst of Japanese that somehow sends Mao Asada into a fit of giggles.
> 
> "Care to share for those of us who don't speak Japanese?"
> 
> Mao stops giggling long enough to reply. "He say he change program because last one too sexy."


	7. Alguien a quien amar (Somebody to love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru scares the hell out of Javi while Javi questions Yuzuru's taste in music. Jeremy and Mao lend them both a helping hand in different ways at the gala.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, I'm not 100% happy with this latest chapter as it feels a little fragmented for my taste, but there were too many scenes I wanted to include! This is also my first time using so many reference clips in one chapter. I am still trying to strike a balance between real life details and the demands of my own muse so expect to see some (okay, maybe more than "some") deviations.
> 
> Enjoy the 2011 Rostelecom Cup, Part 2!

0.03. Javi can hardly believe it. That was the difference between Yuzuru Hanyu and his scores for the night. They were neck to neck, the Japanese skater ahead by literally a hair. _A hair._ Brian senses his thoughts and nudges his arm.

 

“That kid skated lights out tonight but you did too. Try to look a little happier, eh?”

 

Javi tries but his eyes are glued onto Jeremy Abbott’s lone figure on the ice. Garbed all in black, the American cuts a statuesque figure on the ice. The audience falls silent. Jeremy moves his arms out languidly, all liquid flow, like a bird testing its wings. His program’s to some Muse song, which Javi can’t remember because they all sound the same. The American prepares for a quad toe only to land on ice with a sickening crunch. _Ouch_ , not only was the landing bad but Javi wasn’t sure the American had even made the necessary rotations required for the quad.

 

To Abbott’s credit, he speedily gets back up and slips easily back into the rhythm of the program, seamlessly weaving his triple axel and subsequent combination spins with graceful transitions that Javi can’t help but admire. The triple flip looks strong and natural, in contrast to the second fall on the second axel, a landing that’s somehow worse than the quad fall. Jeremy’s quiet confidence seems to evaporate after the second fall, his graceful bird movements degenerating to one more uncertain, panicked even as he scrambles for his triple-lutz, double toe combination and doubles on the triple loop.

 

“He hurt.” Yuzuru speaks up and Javi jumps, so engrossed in Jeremy’s performance that he failed to notice the Japanese skater standing right next to him. His face is pale, lips pursed in a grim line.

 

“I’m sorry, what?”

 

The kid only shakes his head and bites his lip, gesturing vaguely with his right hand. “Hurt hand.”

 

Christ, the kid’s right. And finally, Jeremy seems to realize it too when he finishes his program. The skater’s looking down, eyes wide and dumbfounded, at his right palm, which is smeared with blood.

 

Not exactly the coolest way to finish one’s free skate, Javi supposes as they watch the American receive first aid treatment from the boards, but one couldn’t deny that the man’s commitment to his program.

 

They announce Jeremy’s score. He falls into fifth, behind Russia’s Artur Gachinski and third overall. Yuzuru stills as they announce the final result.

 

Before Javi can congratulate the kid on winning his first Grand Prix event, the kid suddenly dashes off for the locker room.

 

 _Was it something I said?_ Javi wonders but is distracted when Brian congratulates him for winning his second GP medal.

 

**

 

The organizers rush to set up the men’s victory ceremony to avoid falling behind schedule. Jeremy’s waiting in the wings with Javi. The American is in much better spirits after having his hand treated, even joking around a little as he gingerly flexes his hand as if reassuring himself it was still attached to his wrist. However, Yuzuru’s nowhere to be found and his coach, Nanami Abe--her name Javi learns from Brian--though smiling politely, looks beside herself with worry.

 

“Where could that kid be?” Jeremy wonders aloud. Javi remembers Yuzuru’s flash of panic before he made his getaway earlier.

 

“Locker room, maybe? Thought I saw him going there after your free skate.” They couldn’t exactly have the men’s victory ceremony without the actual victor, now could they? Javi checks to make sure his skate guards are secured on his blades before he heads for the men’s locker room.

 

The locker room is surprisingly empty of people. Dim lighting casts eerie shadows in the corners and under the benches. One of the fluorescent lamps above flickers and Javi navigates through the rows of lockers. A noise coming from the adjacent chamber--the showers--catches his attention. The Spanish skater quietly approaches the source of the noise, which, now that he is much closer--sounds like the sound of rustling wings. Was there a bird trapped in the room--? Javi eyes the high window, unlocked, but closed shut.

 

“Hello?” Javi’s voice echoes in the porcelain tiled shower room, growing more uneasy by the second when silence is his only reply. Again, the strange rustling sound starts up again and Javi can see something moving, something large behind the pulled curtains separating the two shower stalls on the far end of the room. He’s just about to manfully sneak out and try elsewhere when the lights go out and he is engulfed in darkness.

 

Javi shrieks. He feels a draft (but the window’s closed!) and senses something move over his head. He thrusts his arms out to instinctively cover his face.

 

And then the lights are back on.

 

“Why you in dark?” Yuzuru Hanyu asks curiously from behind.

 

“God, don’t scare me like that!” Javi seethes, still trying to catch his breath as his eyes dart around the room  Christ, the kid was like a little ninja, materializing out of nowhere, which was impressive considering he's still in his skates. How the kid walks so quietly in them on the tiles Javi doesn’t know, nor is he particularly interested in finding out.

 

“Scare?” The kid raises an eyebrow and Javi feels sillier than ever. He moves past Yuzuru and stomps off back to the arena.

 

“Where have you been, kid? Come on, everyone’s waiting for you.”

 

The Japanese skater dutifully follows Javi out of the room. Javi is too distracted to realize the skater never answers his question.

 

 **

 

Any thoughts of the strange shower apparition--just a dumb bird--melt away as they savor hearty applause of the victory ceremony.

 

 _I can definitely get used to this,_ Javi muses as they skate their victory lap around the rink, carrying their medals, trophies and bouquets. He’s certain he’s grinning like a madman but doesn’t really care at this point, despite the fact that all of their faces were going to be immortalized on camera for fans to ogle over. At least he’s somewhat dignified, Javi reassures himself. He and Jeremy watch in amusement and awkwardly wait while Yuzuru basks in his first GP victory and holds out a fan supplied Japanese flag to pose with for pictures like the excited little kid he is.

 

"He's got a lot of fans," Javi notes as they watch the kid stop again by the boards to beam and flash a peace sign for the fans and their cameras.

 

"Japan's crazier about skating than the Russians are," Jeremy agrees.

 

**

 

Javi’s a bit nervous for the press conference. Although his English is certainly not bad, he’s less confident speaking it during interviews, not to mention he’s more conscious of his Spanish accent. But the Spaniard's fears are unfounded. It actually turns out to be more fun than he expects. The first question is a standard one, asking to get their thoughts and feelings on their results for the night. Yuzuru looks like about to either fall asleep at the table or go into a coughing fit. His translator, an elderly Japanese man, also doesn’t seem to have terribly good English so Javi is left wondering how much of Yuzu’s words were lost in translation.

 

When it’s his turn to speak, Javi’s sure that he’s abused the phrase “really happy” to death, but he can’t think of any other way to describe the bubbling joy from his second silver finish. He’s been waiting for years for this kind of breakthrough...how exactly does one articulate the overwhelming mixture of relief and pride and joy at a job well done, of those years of practice and putting up with teasing, all of that seemed to finally be paying off? Of course, Javi remembers to be gracious and to congratulate both Jeremy and Yuzuru on their skates as well.

 

“Congratulations to these two skaters. I know Yuzuru…he’s so young…and to win like that at a major competition …I don’t know. I’m really happy that we are going to compete at the Final.” The Japanese skater seems pleased by his praise and Javi finds himself grinning back.

 

There’s more questions to follow and Javi answers the ones directed at him the best he can. He can feel his chest swell with warmth when he sees Brian bouncing in the back with pride. He even wrangles Brian into answering a question, just to see his coach get flustered before the reporters, who all remember “Mr. Orser the Great” and his triple axel days. Jeremy then regales the press with his heroic hand injury, which he sustained when he cut it with his blade during either the quad or triple axel fall. (“Triple axel” Javi swears he hears Yuzuru mutter between sips of water and Javi wonders how the kid knows.)

 

“I guess my program is supposed to be about a bird in flight and growing wings...in this performance, well, I was more of a bird that was shot down,” Jeremy explains and the audience roars with laughter.

 

There’s more questions for them and Javi is amazed by the reporters’ interest in every little thing about them, from things like their skating styles, their program choreography...even to the brand of their skating blades. Someone asks Javi a question regarding whether or not his success as the first figure skater from Spain to qualify for the Final will help increase the sport’s popularity in his home country. To be honest, Javi’s never thought about it before. He’s never considered himself a leader, or a pioneer. All he has ever wanted to do was to skate, and to have fun doing it. Even that had been a distant dream that is now only starting to be realized. Javi imagines rinks everywhere back home, with little boys and girls of all ages skating happily on the ice. It’s a good dream, he realizes, and one that he wouldn’t mind being a part of.

 

“We’re gonna have Spain bring winter sports, and not always summer sun,” Javi says. “We’re going to try to make the sky snow.”

 

**

 

"I can't find it!" Javi is still grumbling when he waltzes nearly an hour into gala practice. He's not the only one, but half the Russian skaters present give him some form of the stinkeye for being late. It wasn't his fault that he had mixed up the buses and gotten off on a stop that was three kilometers away from the venue. And Brian's meticulously written directions were all for naught since Javi still has trouble reading the Cyrillic letters on the street signs. He sidles by Yuzuru during the break. The Japanese skater is sipping from his water bottle--which is covered in a fuzzy cloth bottle cover that looks homemade. It takes Javi a moment to realize the cover matches the boy’s Romeo outfit.

 

“Why you late?” Yuzuru asks abruptly.

 

“Got lost,” Javi says and wilts a little under the boy’s disapproving, school-teachery stare. “I couldn’t find my shirt, either.”

 

“For the gala, I mean,” Javi clarifies when the boy only stares blankly at him. “I forgot to pack it, I think. It’s probably still back in Toronto.” And he’s kicking himself for it too. It was one of his favorite shirts and would have gone perfectly with the new exhibition program he had in mind. Now all he had was the wrinkled white button down from his last gala EX and that one seriously needed to be bleached after he had spilled poutine gravy on it.

 

Another sidelong gaze of disapproval--Javi guesses punctuality was important to the Japanese too--to Javi’s relief, the Japanese skater drops the matter entirely and calls Mao Asada over so they can show Javi the group choreography.

 

“Boys start in middle, line up like big star,” Mao explains as Yuzuru demonstrates, skating to the center of the ice and pointing at the starting positions for the men. “Girls go next. Partner up.” She skates to Yuzuru and slowly circles around him. Yuzuru smiles and takes her hand and gently spins Mao around so she is standing in his original position.

 

“Then you go to middle, make small circle and turn around.” Mao continues and Yuzuru turns so he is facing her. “Girls spin around, then we go to boards together. That it for singles. Dance, pairs. Then all line up and hold hand.”

 

Javi nods. So far, so good. “Okay, like a couple’s dance. Seems easy enough.”

 

Mao smiles. “Oh, you good dancer, Javier?”

 

Javi shrugs modestly. “Decent enough, I guess. Depends on what kind of dance.”

 

The two Japanese skaters exchange furtive looks. They grin evilly at each other. Yuzuru utters a query and Mao affirms in Japanese. Yuzuru shoots off and returns, tugging the sleeve of Michal’s warm up jacket. Just when Javi’s about to ask what the hell is going on, Mao points at him.

 

“He volunteer,” she says.

 

Javi has no idea what he’s been volunteered for but Michal clearly knows. The Czech skater’s eyes light up with glee and he drags Javi off to the side, while the two Japanese skaters laugh and wave cheerily in goodbye. Michal outlines the idea he has in mind as a transition between the single skaters opening the gala finale and the pairs and dancers that follow. He needs someone with a “wicked fierce choreo sequence.”

 

Javi figures a wicked fierce choreo is right up his alley.

 

**

 

At the end of practice, Jeremy Abbott approaches Javi with a newly ironed red and blue plaid shirt.

 

“Heard you needed a shirt for the gala,” the American skater says. “Sorry, it’s probably too big ...and maybe a little too Team USA for you, but it could work. You’re doing Bruno Mars, right?” He tosses the shirt to Javi, who catches it with a stunned look on his face.

 

"Thanks! You saved me there!" Javi says as he tries on the shirt. It is a little too big but he likes the color. “How’d you know?”

 

Jeremy only waves a hand toward the door.

 

“A little bird told me,” he replies.

 

**

 

Javi has the time of his life, skating to Bruno Mars’ _Lazy Song_ ; the Russian hosts have a jolly time trying to stop themselves from hyperventilating while Javi scars their ice with his chair routine--so in all, a win-win for everyone, Javi thinks.

 

There is the expected excited hush when Yuzuru is announced to skate. Javi leans forward, curious despite of himself and wonders how receptive the Russians would be to _Vertigo._

 

The Spanish skater nearly falls backward when the dulcet tones of autotuned Justin Bieber belt out of the stadium speakers.

 

It’s _different_ , Javi decides once he’s recovered from the shock. Again, he marvels as the kid continues to surprise everyone and concludes the music suits the skater in a way. Compared to Vertigo, Bieber’s Somebody to love seems like juvenile, clean fun. No sensuous hip rolls this time, much to Javi’s relief. Javi reevaluates the “clean” part of his assessment when Yuzuru launches into a flying camel spin, giving the audience a generous eyeful of midriff skin when his shirt and vest rides up with his whirling movements, prompting an earsplitting screech from the fangirls several rows above.

 

“Earplug?” Mao Asada offers. Javi has no idea why the Japanese queen of the ice is deciding to grace him with her presence, but he’s not complaining.

 

“I gratefully accept,” Javi says and takes them. They don’t muffle out all of the sound, but they do help enormously. They watch as Yuzuru strips off his jacket and returns to the ice for his encore. This time, he’s chosen the choreo part from his free skate.

 

“What you think of him?” Mao asks.

 

“What?” Javi removes the earplugs.

 

“Of Yuzuru,” she clarifies.

 

“Oh! Yuzuru…” Javi is not quite sure how to describe the enigma that was Yuzuru Hanyu. “He’s...something all right.”

 

“Something?”

 

“Yeah, you know, he’s so good, you know? Like he was born to skate. Talented kid, he must practice lots.”

 

“Yes, he practice a lot. More than people know.”

 

“...and he seems so, I don’t know, calm for his age? More grown up. I don’t know if I was ever that focused when I was his age...god I sound old now, don’t I?”

 

“Thing happen in life make some grow up fast,” Mao says, sounding cryptic. Unbeknownst to the Spanish skater, she is watching him carefully. “You like him? Like his skate?”

 

“Who doesn’t?” Javi says. Speaking of the devil, Yuzuru sees where they’re sitting and walks towards them, vest slung carelessly over his shoulder. He and Mao exchange a few lines before he moves to sit next to Mao. Mao stops him and slides over so Yuzuru can sit between them.

 

"Oh...so you changed your program this time." Javi says. "You like Justin Bieber?"

 

Yuzuru shrugs. "It ok." And then a burst of Japanese that somehow sends Mao Asada into a fit of giggles.

 

"Care to share for those of us who don't speak Japanese?"

 

Mao stops giggling long enough to reply. "He say he change program because last one too sexy."

 

“Sexy?” Yuzuru queries, cocking his head.

 

“Maybe in a few more years, kid,” Javi tells him. “You’re not there yet, trust me.”

 

Yuzuru pouts.

 

**

The rest of the gala goes off without a hitch. Javi manages to remember the choreography, he and Michal have a blast with their shoot ‘em dead routine, and none of the pairs skaters drop their partners during the finale. Yuzuru, to no one’s surprise, manages to shock everyone by closing the gala with an impossible triple-axel, triple-axel combination, something that the kid apparently does for fun in ice shows, Javi later learns from Mao.

 

There’s a mad rush as skaters try to get into line for their finale bow--a lot of frantic hand searching is involved as people try to move so they’re standing next to people they either like or at least don't mind holding hands with. Javi reaches for the nearest hand, which just happens to be Yuzuru's; the Japanese skater starts but smiles shyly before slipping his hand into Javier’s.

  
They all raise their arms together and bow to an awkward cut of Beethoven’s _Ode to Joy._ Javi laughs and wishes the night could last forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**
> 
>  
> 
> [1] Jeremy Abbott skates to Muse's "Exogenesis Symphony" for his 2011-12 free skate, a program noted for its complicated and beautiful transitions. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCHTgKPnQLo) to see the program. Due to several critical mistakes with his jumps, one of which caused Jeremy to cut his hand mid-program, Jeremy ends up in 5th in the free skate and wins the bronze. 
> 
> [2] Quotes are taken either verbatim or slightly edited from the actual press conference. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbvVH64cwRU) for the interview. 
> 
> [3] Javi introduces his new EX for the 2011-12 season and skates to Bruno Mars' "Lazy Song". It's a skate that very much befits his personality and he even uses a chair to great effect as a skating prop. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lWLaps5hmPE) for his performance.
> 
> [4] After Vertigo, for the GP series, Yuzuru introduces his new EX for the 2011-12 season, skating to Justin Bieber's "Somebody to love". Fans--and commentators included-- tend to have mixed feelings regarding this particular choice in program music, though it does appeal to Yuzuru's youth well. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NhXJkoXiBp4&t) for his performance.
> 
>  [5] Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Ekkpt3fQis) for the 2011 Rostelecom Gala Finale.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Next Chapter Preview: _La batalla en Quebec_ (The battle in Quebec)**
> 
>  
> 
> "Everyone knows it's all about the quads," Patrick says. "Times are changing and you have to either adapt or get left behind."
> 
> Yuzuru snickers. He says something in Japanese that doesn't sound particularly complimentary.
> 
> Everyone looks at Daisuke Takahashi expectantly to translate.
> 
> "Don't mind him," Daisuke says politely to Patrick. "He just think it funny coming from the man with inconsistent quad toe."


	8. La batalla en Quebec (The battle in Quebec)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 2011 Grand Prix Final begins in Quebec City where Javi fails at basic life skills and Patrick Chan has very strong opinions about the media and the future of men's figure skating. In other news, Yuzuru gives Javi some questionably useful skating advice that comes in handy for Javi's short program.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! We should be in for a VERY exciting second half of the season with Yuzu slated for 4CC AND Worlds!
> 
> Thank you as always for all of the lovely comments you've left. Please know that each and every one of them bring me so much joy to read :). I'm glad the magical realism bit didn't scare anyone away (except Javi, who really has no choice but suffer through more odd swan-related happenings), so I'm looking forward to including that a bit more consistently in the chapters to come.
> 
> Enjoy Part 1 of the 2011 Grand Prix Final!

“Skates?”

 

“Check.”

 

“Skate guards?”

 

“Check.”

 

“Tissue box and first aid kit?”

 

“Check and check.”

 

“Short and long program outfits?”

 

“Check and check.”

 

“Jeremy Abbott’s shirt?”

 

“Che—hey!”

 

“Walked right into that one.” Brian clucks his tongue and shakes his head. The Spanish skater might have one of the more consistent quad jumps in the world now but he was still hopeless at packing the essentials for competition. Brian takes solace in that at least the Spanish skater has yet to forget his skates, though he wouldn’t be surprised if this happens one day.

 

“You’re fortunate that Jeremy was nice enough to let you borrow his shirt for your exhibition in Moscow. Remember to thank him when you return it. I hope you had the sense to wash it.”

 

Javi rolls his eyes. “Of course, Brian. I even dried it too.”

 

Brian gives him a withering look. “Did you iron it?”

 

“Uh…”

 

Brian tosses him a compact, travel-sized iron. “You’re lucky it’s just practice today and we’ve got some time to kill. There’s an ironing board in the dressing rooms. Go iron out those wrinkles.”

 

**

 

Quebec City and Toronto might both be in Canada but they might as well be in two completely different countries, Javi concludes. Though he’s come to call the fast-paced metropolitan city of Toronto a second home, there’s an Old World European feel to Quebec that reminds Javi of his other home back in Madrid. He decides he likes it and hopes to get a little sightseeing in between events; maybe check out the touristy parts of town. After all, it’s a shame to have the opportunity to compete in so many different cities and countries without actually seeing much of anything besides the hotel and the rink.

 

Brian and Javi arrive at the Pavillon de la Jeunesse on time for skater registration. While Brian goes to the coaches table to pick up his coach’s badge, Javi heads to scope out a place for his gear and walks to the changing rooms, dodging junior skaters hurrying onto the ice. God, these guys are tiny, Javi thinks.

 

He finds the ironing board folded in the corner of the room by the mirrors and pulls it out. He takes out the iron and starts ironing fiercely, trying to eradicate the creases on the plaid shirt. When Javi’s wondering if ironing required some kind of secret anti-wrinkle spray since Brian’s iron clearly wasn’t doing anything for the shirt, he hears a giggle from behind.

 

“I think you need to plug it in first,” Daisuke Takahashi, 2010 Olympic bronze medalist and 2010 Worlds champion says, his lips twitching into a good-natured smile and points the cord dangling from the iron. Mao Asada, standing on his right, loses it completely and dissolves into giggles. Akiko Suzuki, 2010 Four Continents silver medalist, is more composed, but still looks faintly amused. Yuzuru Hanyu, despite being easily the tallest of the four, peeks out shyly from behind her shoulder, his Pooh tissue box tucked carefully under his gangly arm.

 

“Thanks,” Javi manages to say, feeling six shades of sheepish. Not to mention a little underdressed. It was just practice today, and Javi’s in warm up clothes that are well-worn and comfortable for him. Nothing coordinated like Team Japan’s matching warm up jackets. It must be nice to have the financial backing of a figure skating federation that was loaded, the Spanish skater thinks wistfully. “You all fly together?”

 

“No, we take different plane, but stay on same hotel floor,” Daisuke says; he offers a hand to Javi. “Congratulations on making the Final, it’s your first time, right?”

 

“Thank you, yeah, this will be my first GPF.” _Of many,_ Javi silently hopes and accepts the hand. He has seen Daisuke compete before at past Worlds competitions (if there was a bright side to those abysmal Worlds performances, it was that Javi did have the chance to see some marvelous skating from the top men) but they have never been formally introduced. However, the Spanish skater has always admired the Japanese skater’s charismatic energy on the ice, and his ability to draw in the audience.

 

“It’s Yuzuru’s first time, too,” Daisuke nods to the younger male skater. “Good learning experience for you both.”

 

“Hopefully, more than just a learning experience,” Javi says, feeling a little reckless. “I did come here to win.”

 

A beat. 

 

“You have spirit,” Daisuke says with a chuckle. “That's good.”

 

Yuzuru says something in Japanese and Mao smiles before explaining.

 

“Funny thing is that our Yuzuru say same thing,” she tells him.

 

It’s the last time Javi sees her smile so freely from the rest of the season.

 

**

 

Jeremy Abbott laughs and only shakes his head when Javi hands him back his shirt.

 

“That old thing, you liked it so much you forgot to give it back in Russia,” the American skater says with a grin as Javi apologizes for the delay. “It’s just as well--you can keep it. Consider it a gift for making it to the Final.”

 

Javi can hardly believe his luck. He thanks Jeremy again and offers the American a meal in return.

 

“Seriously, you don’t need to thank me, though I won’t say no to a free lunch,” Jeremy says, looking amused. “If you really want to thank someone, thank Yuzuru.”

 

“Yuzuru?”

 

The American gives a slight nod. “He tipped me off about you needing a shirt for your exhibition skate. I guess he figured we’re close in size? Lucky I always bring an extra shirt in case it gets cold.”

 

Javi makes a mental note to thank the Japanese skater.

 

**

 

The next morning, Brian makes Javi get up early for the short program practice. By the time he’s at the rink, the atmosphere has completely changed. Most markedly, in Team Japan. Mao Asada is sobbing disconsolately as she strips off her skates and hurriedly packs up her gear. Daisuke gives her a long hug, speaking to her soothingly as he helps her coach fetch her things. Akiko and Yuzuru look on, with identically grim looks on their faces. There’s a member of the JSF speaking to the Skate Canada federation staff in low but serious undertones.

 

“Wonder what’s going on,” Javi says to Brian as he walks up to the boards. “Something happen?”

 

Brian looks up from his clipboard and looks toward Mao. “She withdrew. They just made the announcement. Her mother, I believe, is very ill so she’s heading on the next flight back to Japan.”

 

“That’s awful.” And it is. Javi doesn’t know Mao very well, but he cannot help but feel for the cheerful Japanese skater. To think what it would be like to receive news of his own mother, he cannot begin to imagine it. Suddenly, he misses his own mother terribly.

  
“Due to the timing, the ladies will compete with five,” Brian continues. “There’s a slight delay but everything should go as scheduled. Make sure you go warm up properly and take a look at the practice schedule. They’ll be playing your short program music so that’ll be your last chance for a run-through before the short. You have everything you need?”

 

Javi nods.

 

**

There’s another slight delay as the event organizers deal with the Japanese media, which have descended the venue like a swarm of buzzing hornets, especially after Mao Asada’s withdrawal was officially announced. To avoid the cameras, the skaters are ushered into their dressing rooms for the time being.

 

Javi enters the room, to be greeted by Jeremy and a gloomy Michal. His reason for his gloom quickly becomes obvious when Patrick Chan, 2011 Worlds reigning champion, gets up from the chair he’s sitting in to greet him.

 

“It’s crazy out there, isn’t it?” The Canadian skater addresses him, shaking his head. “I swear that half the reporters out there are Japanese.”

 

Javi isn’t sure how to respond to something like that since he has absolutely nothing to do with the media, nor does he represent Japan. He’s just here to compete, really, and has no interest in being used as the Canadian's sounding board. So he gives a half shrug of noncommittal and sits down with the plan of not talking to anyone at all.

 

As it goes with most of Javi’s plans, his plan works for about a minute before going awry.

 

The door opens, followed by a huge camera flash. Javi blinks, literally seeing stars from the light glare. When his vision clears, Javi sees that Yuzuru has climbed up onto the bench Javi’s sitting on, shaking like a leaf as he starts to hyperventilate. The poor boy looks absolutely terrified at a large dog, a German wirehaired pointer, slipped free from its owner’s hold on its leash. The dog is barking enthusiastically, uncannily interested in sniffing the Japanese skater.

 

Daisuke Takahashi sweeps into the room, a second later, sees the dog and yells at it in Japanese. The pointer immediately cowers at the skater’s harsh tone and Javi feels bad for it.

 

“Who bring this dog in here? Pets not allowed at rink. Bad for skaters, bad for health.”

 

Javi leaps up to grab the dog’s leash.

 

“I’ll take him out. The press won’t care about me.”

 

Yuzuru looks up and gives Javi a look of such intense gratitude, Javi feels his heart hammer a little at the sight.

 

“Thank you,” Daisuke pats Javi on the shoulder before joining his countryman on the bench. He speaks quietly to Yuzuru and hands him his inhaler.

 

“You have asthma…?” Javi hears Patrick ask before he closes the door behind him.

 

**

 

To Javi’s relief, there aren’t nearly as many reporters as he expects milling around the hallway. A blonde girl, garbed in a hunter green scarf, runs to Javi when she recognizes her dog.

 

“Coco!” The girl squeals and the dog barks happily.

 

“ _Je suis désolé_ , so sorry for the trouble. I was afraid I lost her." Javi offers the leash to her, which she quickly accepts.

 

"Coco is usually so calm," the girl tells Javi after being reassured her dog was safe. "I don’t understand why she got excited, she is so good around people--it’s only birds that she chases--thank you so much for returning her.”

 

“It’s no problem, but you should know that they don’t allow pets here,” Javi tells her and pointedly shows her the exit before walking back to the room.

 

**

 

When Javi returns, somehow the mood seems worse than before. Now that Daisuke has taken a seat next to Yuzuru, the two sitting in stony silence, and Javi somehow feels awkward joining them. So he sits between Michal and Jeremy. Yuzuru has put away his inhaler and seems to be breathing normally now. Daisuke seems to ask Yuzuru if he’s okay and the Japanese teenager nods.

 

“Are there still reporters out there?” Patrick asks.

 

“Some, not a lot, I think they’re leaving now,” Javi answers. Patrick stretches out his arms as he gustily sighs.

 

“Still chattering about that withdrawal announcement?”

 

“I don’t know.” And Javi honestly doesn’t care. It isn’t really his business.

 

“The press can be an interfering bunch of people, you know?”

 

Michal coughs.

 

“I mean, this is an international skating competition, not a public space where reporters can just waltz in and start pestering competitors with questions. Especially questions about personal details that don’t have anything to do with skating.”

 

“It’s the press, Patrick, what’d you expect?” Jeremy sounds tired. “They’re just trying to do their jobs. You can’t hate them for that.”

 

“Well, it’s unprofessional,” Patrick insists. “You don’t go up to a politician and start asking questions about their family affairs--you ask them about politics, their bills, their policies-you know, their actual work. I have no respect for gossip rag writers who style themselves as actual journalists when they’re more interested on pouncing on skater gossip instead of reporting on, you know, actual figure skating.”

 

“When you talk that way, you just give the reporters more reasons to not like you,” Michal mutters.

 

“I’m just not afraid to speak my mind,” Patrick says. “Freedom of speech and all that. If I wanted I’d tell them exactly what I think good sports journalism is.”

 

“And what would that be? A feature on the state of Canadian figure skating?”

 

Patrick laughs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Michal. Canada doesn’t care about figure skating. A feature exclusively on figure skating would be a miracle. If _I_ were a smart journalist for a legitimate publication, I would find it interesting to comment on actual figure skating--the performances, the results, and the direction the sport as a whole is going toward.”

 

From the darkening look on Michal’s face, the Czech skater does not like the particular direction the conversation is heading.

 

“Everyone knows it’s all about the quads,” Patrick says. “Times are changing and you have to either adapt or get left behind.”

 

Yuzuru snickers and says something in Japanese that doesn’t sound particularly complimentary.

 

Everyone looks at Daisuke Takahashi expectantly to translate.

 

“Don’t mind him,” Daisuke says politely to Patrick, after a deliberate pause. “He just think it funny coming from the man with inconsistent quad toe.”

 

Jeremy unsuccessfully suppresses a laugh.

 

“Well, like they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Patrick nonchalantly continues. “I think we can all agree, the sport needs to be pushed. If that means falls before landings, I’d fall as many times as I can. The inconsistency is temporary, the quad a work-in-progress. I, for one, am not afraid to try new things. There's more to skating than points, anyway. I skate for myself, and have nothing to prove to anyone.”

 

Javi wonders if Patrick was telling them this because he truly wants to convince them or if he wants to convince himself.

 

**

 

Javi is a mess during all of practice, stumbling on nearly every one of his jumps and traveling on his spins so much that Brian gives him that “I’m deeply concerned” look that usually means a lengthy heart to heart talk to follow. The Spanish skater’s only consolation is that he is not only in this plight. Left and right, he can see the men popping jumps, landing dangerously close to the boards. Even cool Patrick looks tense and entirely dissatisfied with his practice, choosing to cut out early to cool off.

 

All in all, it’s not a great practice for any of them but Javi looks away and resolves to stay until the end to bring his focus back. To his satisfaction, Javi regains his quads and fixes his spins with Brian’s input. The triple axel though, to his alarm, has suddenly become a renewed stumbling block. Javi curses when he underrotates the jump, loses control of the landing and falls on his back. He opens his eyes and finds Yuzuru curiously looking down at him.

 

“You jump wrong.”

 

“Yes, I know it’s wrong. And I think I’m done.” Javi groans as he gets back up. He sees Brian tapping his watch, a signal to tell Javi to cool down and call it quits for the day. And Javi’s about to, when Yuzuru reaches out to lightly tap him on the wrist.

 

“You jump wrong," the boy insists. He lifts both hands, his right palm facing Javi and his left palm facing himself. He spins his left hand so it sharply collides with his right. “Triple axel jump. Crash into wall. Smash wall down.”

 

“I’m sorry, what?”

 

The Japanese skater looks frustrated, recognizing his inability to adequately communicate his thoughts in a language Javi understands. He squeezes his palms before relaxing them. He murmurs something in Japanese before smoothing his hair, seeming to have arrived at a decision. Then he skates a little ways before stopping.

 

“I show you.”

 

Javi watches in fascination as Yuzuru makes a few crossovers over the ice. He quickly builds up take off speed before he turns and _jumps,_ flying across the ice with so much height and distance that it looks like for a split second he’s hovering.

 

Javi touches his lower jaw to make sure it’s still attached to his skull after his jaw drop. (Yes, it's still attached.)

 

“How’d you do that?”

 

Yuzuru gives a little secretive smile. “Just jump. Crash into wall,” he says and skates off.

 

**

 

Javi exhales and digs his blades deep into the ice. He needs every bit of concentration he can muster. It’s one of the reasons why Javi prefers the free skate over the short program. The short program, Javi thinks, demands perfection. A skater has only two and half minutes to leave a lasting impression, showing off one’s technical ability and artistic prowess while leaving very little room for mistakes. Including a quad as one of the required jumping passes was risky and although Javi’s been more confident on his quad jumps, he isn’t quite sure if he’s as confident in his ability to put all the pieces together.

 

The program starts and Javi tries to empty his mind of irrelevant thoughts, keeping only a single voice to outline and narrate his plan of attack. His blades slice the ice, and he turns, winding up to for the first jump and _yes,_ he lands the quad toe.

 

But it’s too soon to celebrate, Javi reminds himself. He channels those feelings of triumph and releases them into a mini split jump and prepares himself for a familiar foe, the onerous triple-lutz, double toe combination jump. Javi flails when he goes off axis for the triple lutz, but he saves the landing, teetering on the back outside edge before following up with the double toe. He grins.

 

Javi forces to keep his steps small, light and quick-- _after all, these are “small flowers”--_ as he considers the last jump element...the triple axel. It’s all or nothing--he only has one chance to get it right and he’ll be madder than mad if he goes into the jump without his all. Javi twists his hips to go for the forward takeoff--a sudden image of a stone wall flashes in his mind-- and he grits his teeth, twists his hips to go for the forward takeoff, jumps through the wall and cleanly lands the axel.

 

The rush of the triple axel’s landing is enough to carry Javi through the rest of his short--the spins and straight line step sequence to follow feel so _easy_ in comparison.

 

“That triple axel was great--very nice recovery,” Brian praises when they go to the kiss and cry. Javi nods his head as he listens but he knows that he can do better still. He has yet to master the combination jump but feels relaxed when he receives his score and bumps Yuzuru down to second. He won’t hold onto that lead for long, as there are four more skaters to go--all GPF veterans--but he is calm and collected, a odd but welcome state of mind to be in after the short.

 

“It’s a long season,” Brian reminds him. “But we’re on track.”

 

Javi agrees and steels himself to be ready on the ice the next day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**
> 
> (amazingly, not a whole lot of actual skating in this chapter!)
> 
> [1] Mao Asada withdraws from the 2011 Grand Prix Final literally the morning of the first day of competition after receiving news of her mother's critical condition and returns immediately back to Japan. Because the withdrawal was such short notice, the Grand Prix Final proceeded without an alternate for the ladies event :( :( :(
> 
> [2] I've done my best to avoid demonizing any characters, including Patrick Chan. Although undeniably a fantastic skater, Patrick Chan isn't particularly known for his tact and has frequently been misquoted. His dislike of the media in this particular season has to do with an interview he had in September 2011 where Patrick had purportedly claimed he was feeling underappreciated in Canada because Canada wasn't as crazy about figure skating as the Chinese, Japanese and Russians are and how he'd love to skate for both China and Canada so he can get the recognition he deserves. Skate Canada later mentioned that Patrick had been misquoted and his remarks were taken out of context. Make of that what you will.
> 
> [3] Yuzuru's advice regarding his triple axel technique is an actual quote from an interview he had with Nobunari Oda, another Japanese figure skater. You can see that Yuzuru's explanations for his jumping techniques tend to be a little...out there.
> 
> [4] Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1962zdcMVgs) to view the entire 2011 GPF men's short program. I skipped over Yuzuru's SP here to focus on Javi (sorry about that!) but as a summary, Yuzuru skated first (the order of the short program for the GPF is in reverse order of the GPF qualifer rankings. Yuzuru, who placed 4th and 1st at his GP events, has the lowest number of qualifier points out of the men here. He stumbles (again) on his quad toe, but otherwise gives a very strong performance. Unfortunately, being the 1st to go also usually means that his program component score (PCS) tends to be underscored.
> 
> [5] Javi skates a very respectable SP as well; not a season's best, since he stumbles on the triple-lutz, double-toe combination again (you can tell he's not a fan of the lutz jump) but pulls off a beautiful quad toe and triple axel. He actually ends up being the only male skater to pull off a clean quad in the short program, which highlights his growing technical strength as a consistent quad jumper.
> 
> **Next Chapter Preview: _La canción de victoria_ (The song of victory)**
> 
> "That was good skating," Daisuke tells him. "And a good result for you." The Japanese skater pauses meaningfully to collect his thoughts. "Anyone back home to bring good news?"
> 
> "Oh, yeah, definitely my family, my girlfriend, my friends, the Cricket Club," Javi easily says.
> 
> Daisuke nods before doing a double take. "What, girlfriend? You have girlfriend?"
> 
> "Well, of course I do."
> 
> Daisuke coughs. "I'm sorry. It's just...you surprised me."
> 
> "It surprises you that I have a girlfriend?" Javi asks, looking puzzled.
> 
> "I just thought...never mind, forget we had this conversation."


	9. La canción de victoria (The song of victory)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick Chan repeats as GPF Champion to no one's surprise. Meanwhile, Javi receives an interesting load of presents in time for the holiday season, including some good advice from Jeremy Abbott, some truly awful green tea from Daisuke Takahashi, and a challenge from Yuzuru Hanyu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that holidays are over and classes are starting again, updates won't be as frequent though I'll do my best to keep to a regular schedule. 
> 
> Please enjoy Part 2 of the 2011 GPF!

The clear notes of Japanese flutes pierce the air as Michal begins his program. It’s a contemplative piece, with spaces of silence marked between the resonating beats of taiko drums. The Czech skater slows before diving into a powerful triple axel--it’s beautiful but Javi can’t help but think that it doesn’t look quite as neat as Yuzuru’s. Michal follows it up with a triple-flip, triple-toe loop that sends the audience roaring in excitement. The skater builds momentum and Javi frowns when he sees the man is deviating from his planned triple lutz jump, the inside of his leg angling toward the ice instead of away from it, as if preparing for a salchow jump.

 

 _He’s going for the quad--?_ Javi sits up in disbelief, just in time to see the skater make the necessary four rotations before crashing down hard on the ice. There’s a collective gasp. Michal soldiers on to finish the rest of his short, but he’s already lost the power carrying him through the first half and looks more resigned than anything as he finishes in third, after Yuzuru, and likely last overall. Javi wonders if Patrick’s litany from earlier that day had anything to do with the man’s decision to slip a quad back into his short program despite his clear stance on including unreliable quad jumps.

 

Jeremy Abbott is next. In clear defiance to Patrick’s grand theory of quads being the next big thing, the American skater avoids quad jumps altogether, and confidently plays with his silver suspenders in time to the soft jazz beats of his music. Oozing charisma with just a snap of his fingers, the American skater smiles cheekily. He sends the audience into a unified clapping beat, and recovers from a stumble on his opening triple flip that’s quickly forgotten as he skates an otherwise clean and crowd-pleasing skate. Javi doesn’t actually mind too much when Jeremy ends up scoring higher than him despite not have any quads--his performance had been that good. In any case, Jeremy looks thrilled at his result and hugs Yuka Sato, his coach, in the kiss and cry.

 

Daisuke Takahashi glides along the ice next, a sharp vision of black, his arms raised like an eagle preparing for flight. Every little movement has a well honed elegance as the man steps and opens with a quad toe. Underrotated, from what Javi can tell, which is a shame because the jump flowed so well. Javi pays close attention to how Daisuke weaves through his spins--fast and effortless--in time with the haunting notes. Javi has never been a fan of New Age music, it's too weird and abstract for his taste, but he does admit Daisuke’s performance makes him appreciate it a little bit more. The spell breaks when the skater steps out of his combination jump and while the man rallies the crowd back in, Javi notices a stiffness to the man’s movements when he trudges to the kiss and cry. Daisuke falls into a shocking fourth, right behind his countryman, Yuzuru, and second to last.

 

When it feels like the whole audience in the arena is screaming, there’s no doubt that the star of the show is next. Patrick whizzes onto the ice, tank fully loaded and ready to go with the home crowd egging him on. Hands in his pockets, the Canadian skater pauses in the center, radiating confidence and a puppy like eagerness. Patrick’s moving so quickly, so self-assuredly that Javi knows without a doubt that as Patrick swoops in for his opening quad toe jump, he’ll land it.

 

And he does. But filled with the adrenaline rush of having successfully landed the quad so cleanly, the Canadian, emboldened by his success, impulsively modifies the solo quad jump and turns it into a combination jump. But the speed at which the man is already flying backwards...there’s no way there's space for a second jump. Javi thinks the dumbfounded look on Patrick’s face when he crashes into the boards during his combination jump and just sits there for a moment on the ice is the most hilarious thing ever.

 

The tumble against the boards doesn’t rattle the man at all and with the return of the screaming from his fans, Patrick barrels through the rest of his short program with gusto. A hand down on the triple axel mars the performance but does not discourage the crowd from cheering even harder as the skater pulls off a triple lutz, the only jump out of the three to have a good landing and finishes off with a dazzling step sequence that brings the crowd to its feet. Patrick claps both hands to his face, giddy as a young boy and unable to hide the toothy grin on his face. It’s an unbelievably huge score, both in technical and program component points, a season’s best despite messing up two out of three jumps. Javi sees Jeremy Abbott’s smile fade a little when Patrick knocks him down to second.

 

Javi doesn’t know what’s on the American’s mind but it isn’t hard to recognize the emotion that flits through Abbott’s eyes.

 

The look of fear.

 

**

 

“I wouldn’t say I was scared,” Jeremy clarifies over breakfast the next day. “A little worried, maybe.”

 

“Weren’t you surprised?” Javi asks. “I mean, the guy had a fall and a hand down on two jumps and still got a season’s best.”

 

“I was hardly perfect either,” Jeremy says, twirling a forkful of eggs. “Assuming that I skated my absolute best, it might have been a little closer. But what can you do? We can only show the judges our best and let the points fall where they may.”

 

“Doesn’t it bug you though?”

 

Jeremy looks thoughtful, but hardly surprised.

 

“I would be lying if I said Patrick’s words about the quads as the next big thing doesn’t worry me,” Jeremy says. “He might be tactless, but he’s right. The new scoring system is built to reward skaters who take bigger risks, which means more quads. I don’t blame Michal for putting in that quad, even if he didn’t feel ready for it. Maybe I might have done the same if I were him, but I’m comfortable with where I am now.” He smiles when he sees Javi isn’t convinced.

 

“It’s probably hard for you to understand, since this is your first Grand Prix Final," Jeremy continues. "I’ve been skating as a senior for six years now; the years go by so quickly and I’ve really enjoyed skating. But I’m also being realistic here--looking back on what I’ve accomplished, it feels great of course, and I still love to win, but I’ve also learned where my limits are. And quads just aren’t in the cards for me right now, I don’t think they ever will be.”

 

It feels strange to Javi to listen to a twenty-five year old talk about retirement already. He admires the American’s skater quiet confidence and skating skills and tells him so. Javi’s aware his skating skills are still a weak point but something he and Brian are working on together.

 

“I’ll admit to being a little jealous of you and Yuzuru and Patrick right now,” Jeremy says. “You guys, are just starting out, testing out those quad jumps that few men have added in competition before. It's like you're pioneers in uncharted waters or something. Yuzuru, especially, I know he’s been struggling with the quads just like everybody else this season, but the fact that he’s doing them at his age, he’s quite something, isn’t he?”

 

“Do you guys know each other well?”

 

“Not particularly, but we’ve had a lot of competitions together,” Jeremy says. “We had the same GP assignments this season--and he medaled at Four Continents last season--finished ahead of me to win silver actually. Not too shabby for his senior debut. Intense, but Yuka says you kind of have to be to survive as a competitive skater in Japan,” Jeremy adds. “But a good kid. Thoughtful, you know?”

 

Javi agrees.

 

"It’s an exciting time for competitive skating, even if veterans like me may not be too happy that we’re missing out on some medals.” Jeremy makes a face. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to just _give_ you the silver, Javi.”

 

Javi grins. “Really? Because I was getting the vibe that you were telling me to get my acceptance speech ready.”

 

“I’m not _that_ old,” Jeremy laughs. “I’ll definitely skate the best that I can--that’s really all I need to be satisfied. When you get older and hit your limit, you look for other reasons to skate.”

 

Javi nods, though he can’t understand the notion of being able to enjoy competitive skating without winning. The memories of the last four World championships play out in the back of his mind like a bad, unending movie reel.

 

**

 

After breakfast, Jeremy thanks Javi and wishes him luck before parting ways. Javi has a little time to kill and decides to spend the latter half of the morning touring Old Quebec, admiring and snapping photos of the towering cathedrals and the Château Frontenac and strolling by to check out the little shops on the St. Lawrence boardwalk. He’s looking for something pretty but affordable, a birthday gift that Cortney will like, and pauses at a street jewelry stand.

 

“Something for a special lady?” the seller asks.

 

“A birthday,” Javi explains. “Her birthday’s in December.”

 

“Ahh, perhaps, this turquoise necklace?”

 

Javi looks at the delicate chain and figures it’ll do. It’s sparkly, but tasteful in an understated kind of way and he remembers Cortney mentioning how much she adored turquoise (or at least Javi _thinks_ it was turquoise).

 

“Sure, I’ll take it. How much? And could I get it gift-wrapped?”

 

“Thirty five dollars, please.” Javi forks over the cash and the seller packages it up for him. He’s about to take the box when the seller gestures at another tray of bead bracelets.

 

“We’re having a special this week, buy a necklace and get a bracelet free.”

 

Javi glances at the tray without interest. “I’m fine, thanks--” A flash of deep, ocean blue catches his eye. He picks up a elastic bracelet with blue, white and clear beads.

  
“On second thought, I’ll take this one.”

 

**

 

Having placed last in the short, Michal Brezina is first up for the free skate. Any podium chances here look grim for him, though it’s too early to count him out yet. As Javi knows well, anything can happen. No one expected Daisuke Takahashi to be second to last in the short either.

 

The Czech skater starts off strong, maybe even a little too aggressive. His opening triple axel is a little on the crunchy side, though he smooths out his triple-flip, triple-toe jump. Javi can see Michal visibly tense as he leaps into his third jump, the quad sal, which he fully rotates but careens off axis and puts a hand down on the ice. No clean quad yet, but fully rotated all the same. The Czech _does_ , however, end up falling on his triple-axel combination jump, a more costly mistake that goes on to take the rest of the skater’s energy for the rest of the free skate. He ends up finishing with 218.98 overall, an easily beatable score.

 

Daisuke stirs the lackluster audience to screaming life with his powerful free skate to blues music. It’s an intriguing performance, one that’s somehow slow but sharp, casual but intense--a performance of contradictions. It’s like a weirdly sensual dance, Javi thinks, before he remembers that Daisuke Takahashi and sultry go hand in hand. Javi swears the first row of women spectators all keel over in a faint when the Japanese skater skates on by, dangerously close to the boards with a smirk, hand gliding over his head and neck in orgasmic rapture. Javi hears Brian chuckle at the reaction.

 

“I wager that move doesn’t just work on the ladies.”

 

Javi goes off to stretch, trying to mentally prepare himself for his turn. He wonders what it would be like to do a routine that screamed sex appeal and his mind shorts out. He thinks he’ll stick to what he’s got right now and leave the sultry routines to the experts.

 

Daisuke vaults overwhelmingly into first with a season’s best, and looks thoroughly pleased with himself. Who wouldn’t be pleased after a come-from-behind free skate?

 

Meanwhile, Javi sees the silhouette of a familiar lithe skater in his rhinestone crossed top skate by. Yuzuru Hanyu’s dark eyes meet Javi’s briefly, before the skater flies away to start.

 

Javi holds his breath when he sees Yuzuru transition into his opening jump, the one that he’s stumbled on all season. But there’s no hesitation now, only pure determination as Yuzuru fearlessly kicks off into the air, rotating rapidly before touching back down, arms spread fully out like wings, a perfect quad toe. It’s a marvelous performance, a near perfect one, the best Javi’s seen yet from the skater.

 

“Careful now, you’ll hurt your hand,” Brian says.

 

Javi’s heart jumps into his throat and he lets go sheepishly when he becomes aware that he’s crushing his half empty water bottle to death.

 

“He’s gotten so much better,” Javi tells Brian. He registers that his hands are shaking a little and he doesn’t quite know if they’re trembling with excitement or fear. Maybe a mix of both.

 

“So have you,” Brian replies. They shake hands and walk to the boards together.

 

Javi passes by Yuzuru before stepping out onto the ice. The skater has reverted back to his kid self, practically throwing himself into his coach’s arms, babbling excitedly with joy.

 

Javi breathes in and out, his mind completely still. He surrenders to the music, his mind entirely focused on moving every part of his body, a culmination of all of the hours of practicing, of watching, of note-taking, of falling, every minute on the ice over the past few months, the past few years; everything has been for this moment.

 

Placing trust in himself, Javi jumps.

 

**

 

Javi knocks on the door, fiddling with the package in his hands. There’s a long pause and just when he thinks no one’s home, the door opens.

 

“Can I help you?” Daisuke Takahashi greets him.

 

“Oh...I must have gotten the wrong room number.” Javi turns to leave, feeling embarrassed for his error.

 

“Are you looking for Yuzuru?”

 

“Uh, yeah, actually. Is he around?”

 

“He...out right now,” Daisuke informs him and opens the door a bit wider. “Not back until late. Do you need something? To talk with him?”

 

“Uh, kind of, but it’s not urgent or anything. I can catch him at the gala…” Javi shifts uncomfortably under the Japanese man’s hawk-like stare, as if assessing him for his intentions. He must have passed the test because the man opens the door fully.

 

“Where my manners go? Please, come in.” Daisuke invites him into the hotel room. There are two beds in the room, one side is incredibly messy, with jackets and clothes piled up on top like a strange mountain while the other bed is as neat as a pin.

 

“Sorry for no chairs. You can sit on that bed--Yuzuru keep it clean.”

 

Daisuke clears his side of the bed so he can sit down and offers Javi something to drink.

 

“My apologies, we only have green tea and water,” the Japanese skater says and offers Javi a green tea bottle. Despite not being a tea drinker, Javi takes it anyway, even manages a few gulps before making a face.

 

Daisuke laughs. “Not a tea drinker?”

 

“I like coffee better,” Javi admits. “Thanks for inviting me, but really, I just wanted to drop off something for Yuzuru.”

 

Daisuke's eyes narrow. “A gift?”

 

“Just something to thank him. He helped me once--actually two times--so I wanted to return the favor.”

 

“I can take and give to him,” Daisuke says and holds out a hand. Javi hands him the package, feeling strangely reluctant to let go, then berates himself for being silly. The Japanese skater carefully tucks the gift away in his jacket.

 

“Thanks for the tea,” Javi says and gets up from the bed, which creaks and draws his attention downwards at the carpet. He spots something white and wispy on the floor. It looks like a down feather, like from a pillow or a jacket.

 

“Where’d this come from?”

 

“Oh that, probably from pillow,” Daisuke says carelessly. “We Japanese like our feather pillows. Always bring with us on plane. Help to sleep better.”

 

“Haha, that must be nice for long flights,” Javi agrees as Daisuke walks him to the door. They pause by the door sill.

 

"That was good skating," Daisuke tells him. "And a good result for you." The Japanese skater pauses meaningfully to collect his thoughts. "Anyone back home to bring good news?"

 

"Oh, yeah, definitely my family, my girlfriend, my friends, the Cricket Club," Javi easily says.

 

Daisuke nods before doing a double take. "What, girlfriend? You have girlfriend?"

 

"Well, of course I do."

 

Daisuke coughs. "I'm sorry. It's just...you surprised me."

 

"It surprises you that I have a girlfriend?" Javi asks, looking puzzled.

 

"I just thought...never mind, forget we had this conversation." For some reason, the Japanese man looks strangely relieved.

 

Javi’s agreeable to that, though he’s a little weirded out. “I guess I’ll see you all at the gala.”

 

“Yes, see you tonight,” Daisuke says, before closing the door.

 

**

 

The gala passes by in a fantastic blur but Javi remembers how much fun it was. Patrick Chan, the GPF champion once again, pranced excitedly, his mouth running a mile a minute, as he skated, stopping every so often to repeatedly thank everyone including his mother, his fans, even his dogs for supporting his skating journey. American Jason Brown, Junior Grand Prix champion started the macho man skater battle by challenging them all with a split jump. Yuzuru, like a hyped up kid on sugar, took on the dare and dived into a hydroblade before throwing in a triple axel jump at the end, smirking at them all and mouthing something along the lines of “ _Can you top that?”_ Javi knows it’s a bad idea, but how do you back down from something like that without feeling less than a man? He went for the triple axel too, only to pop it into a double when he didn’t quite get the speed he needs for the takeoff. Daisuke had only rolled his eyes ( _Amateurs)_ before skating out and pulling off the sexiest looking triple axel that left everyone either gaping or swooning (Javi didn’t even know that making a triple axel jump _look_ sexy was even possible).

 

With a perpetual grin plastered on his face, Javi heads back to his room, completely satisfied, the GPF bronze medal feeling nice and heavy in his pocket. He’s reaching for his keycard when he sees he has an unexpected visitor at his door.

 

“Oh, hey.”

 

Yuzuru Hanyu looks solemn, his skin pale under the hallway lights. He lifts his left arm, separating one of the bracelets on his wrist from the others. Javi recognizes the blue beads and feels a rush of relief.

 

“Daisuke say. You give me.”

 

“Yeah, I did.”

 

“Why?” Yuzuru asks, looking genuinely confused.

 

“Why…?” Javi echoes, nonplussed. “Well, because you helped me.”

 

“I help you?”

 

“Jeremy told me about the shirt. You know, this one he gave me.” Javi gestures to the shirt he’s wearing. “He told me that you asked him if he could lend me one. You didn’t have to do that. That was really nice of you.”

 

Yuzuru stares. Javi clears his throat.

 

“And uh, well, you also gave me that hint about the triple axel. You know, the wall thing, which I still don’t really get but--”

 

“Thank you.”

 

It’s Javi’s turn to stare. The intense wariness radiating off the boy moments ago dissipates, leaving an aura that’s warmer, more friendly. Yuzuru’s lips, previously pressed thin, twitch upwards into a boyish grin.

 

“This, I like,” he says, tapping the bracelet. “Wear to gala.”

 

“Uh, glad you like it.”

 

“Your quad,” Yuzuru continues and mimes something larger than himself with his arms. “Big. Beautiful. I like.”

 

Javi smiles.

 

“Your quad toe was really good too. Your free skate, actually, it was great.”

 

Yuzuru wrinkles his nose. “Only one quad. Not good. Want more.” He eyes Javi speculatively. “You win. Beat me today,” he adds.

 

“I did, but it was very close.”

 

Yuzuru stills. He is so quiet Javi wonders if he’s even breathing.

 

“Wanna bet?”

 

“What?”

 

Yuzuru flashes a grin, this one more dangerous and full of teeth. “Make bet. See who win next. Go to Worlds?”

 

Javi gets the idea and slowly smiles.

 

“Oh? And what are the stakes? Whoever scores higher at Worlds, what does the winner get?”

 

“Lose. Give what winner want.”

 

Javi blanches.

 

“You mean, I have to do whatever you want if you win?”

 

Yuzuru makes a fist, eyes bright with challenge.

 

“Afraid?”

 

Javi accepts Yuzuru’s hand.

 

“You’re on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**
> 
> Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1962zdcMVgs) for a video of the 2011 GPF Men's Short Program.
> 
> [1] Michal Brezina skates to "Japanese Kodo Drums" for his SP, an interesting music selection. He attempts a quad salchow jump for the first time in this program, which he falls on. He later attempts another quad salchow in his FS "The Untouchables" but doesn't land that one clean either. He finishes last in the SP and last overall. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WSOqsJ459Tg) to see his FS performance.
> 
> [2] Jeremy Abbott pulls off another audience engaging SP. Markedly, he is the only one of the men who does not attempt a quad in the short, though he does attempt one in his free skate. He finishes second in the short, just right behind Patrick Chan, but slips to fifth overall.
> 
> [3] Daisuke Takahashi basically trades places with Jeremy Abbott. He has a subpar SP (skated to "In the Garden of Souls" by Vas, choreographed by David Wilson) which puts him in 5th, right behind Yuzuru but then makes an amazing comeback to take silver in his FS "Blues for Klook" by Eddie Louiss. Takahashi is known for being a very charismatic and artistic skater famous for his musical interpretation. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Fffnk8irQo&t) to see his FS performance.
> 
> [4] Yuzuru, skating right after Takahashi, throws down the gauntlet and skates a spectacular FS. He _finally_ lands his quad toe clean for the first time this season and other than a shaky landing on his last jump, receive positive GOEs on almost all elements. He finishes third in the free skate and fourth overall, just missing out on the podium. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nIvJTwQx1-g) to see his FS performance.
> 
> [5] Javi continues the string of excellent FS performances for the men with his free skate. He is the only man to land BOTH quad jumps--a quad toe & quad salchow--perfectly for this competition and has the most technically difficult FS program. He does make a few mistakes on his later jumps but ends up finishing fourth in the free skate and a few points ahead of Yuzuru to claim the bronze, his first GPF medal. Not bad for his first GPF! Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ml8lCmin8Io%20) to see his FS performance.
> 
> [6] I skipped over Jeremy & Patrick's FS, but the greatest hits: Jeremy had a minor meltdown during his FS and lost his second place lead to finish second to last in the free skate and over all. Patrick wins the GPF with his free skate, "Concierto de Aranjuez" by Joaquín Rodrigo (choreographed by Lori Nichol), a far from clean program but racks up the PCS points with his strong skating skills to claim his second GPF title.
> 
> [7] Click [here](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=3&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwi2iMfDj6fRAhUmjVQKHWLLCuUQtwIIIzAC&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DuU05USxd7Os&usg=AFQjCNG_NKdw4-ulsVOPr19kDjjJ5_82gg&sig2=en5qmuqwjz1t0b1_H4nc_w&bvm=bv.142059868,d.cGw) to see the gala finale where the men have their choreographed jump battle.
> 
> [8] Yuzu skates to JB's "Somebody to love" for the last time this season (whew) at the GPF. For those of you interested in seeing what Javi's gift looks like, check out Yuzu's left arm in his ending pose :P Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pSQX167zuuU) to watch Yuzu's GPF EX performance.
> 
> **Next chapter preview: _La venida de la tormenta_ (The coming storm)**
> 
> Javi slams his water bottle on the bench.
> 
> "I really, really want to hit something right now."
> 
> Yuzuru, who had been icing his foot, hastily moves his Pooh bear out of the Spanish skater's range.


	10. La venida de la tormenta (The coming storm)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javi multi-tasks in Nice...a great place to take your girlfriend on a consoling date after her subpar skate, to have dinner with your family, and to host the 2012 World Figure Skating Championships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, being sick with the flu + having no internet for two weeks is not conducive to writing. But I'm back (and mostly recovered), and it's onto Worlds!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who submitted links...I had a blast watching them! (Will admit to getting a little sidetracked along the way, which is again, not conducive to a speedy update schedule, but I swear all of the watching is going to a good cause...research for this fic!)
> 
> Enjoy Part 1 of the 2012 Worlds arc!

The first thing Javi does when he arrives in his hotel room is to throw himself onto his bed, which to his immense satisfaction has properly plumped pillows and freshly starched sheets. The sun is shining, he’s severely jetlagged, but it’s a beautiful day in Nice. Javi breathes out with a sigh, enjoying the moment of peace and quiet.

  
The moment doesn’t linger for long. Javi’s phone buzzes twice. He gets three texts. The first text is from Brian, letting him know that his flight got delayed and that he wouldn’t be arriving until tomorrow morning, but that Javi should go ahead and take advantage of the multiple practice sessions scheduled for the week to get back into his competitive rhythm. The second text is from Cortney, with a screenshot of the skating order for the preliminary round for ice dance later that afternoon. The third text is from Laura, informing him that they would be arriving at Nice Côte d'Azur airport later today and that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to bring his special lady around for dinner tonight.

  
Javi grins before kicking off his shoes and pulling up the sheets. He sets his phone to ring three hours later and settles in for a long nap.

  
**

  
Javi sleeps too well and ends up coming late, just in time to watch the fourth ice dance team step off the ice. He waves to Cortney, who shoots him a look that is fifty percent exasperation and fifty percent relief. He finds a good seat and settles himself down to watch.

  
Even as a singles skater who knows nothing about ice dance, Javi can tell that it's not going to be a good skate for Cortney. She's as nervous as hell and doesn't seem to trust her partner, a stoic, towering Khazakhstani named Daryn Zhunussov, who seems to feel her discomfort in waves and mirrors the same tension in his posture. They don't ever quite completely synchronize on some of their elements--the twizzles, the lifts, the choreographic sequence--and at the end, Javi isn't sure if it was appropriate to applaud at such a lackluster performance, so he settles for polite clapping when they finish. He knows Cortney can skate well, but her current partnership just wasn't working out. Not to mention she didn’t seem to be enjoying herself, but anyone would find it hard to enjoy themselves after skating like that. Javi can tell it was going to be one of those days.

  
As soon as they receive their score, Cortney dashes from the kiss and cry, heading straight for the dressing rooms. Javi follows at a safe distance. He is entirely too well acquainted with the crushing sensation of a bad skate at Worlds and knows that what Cortney needs is a space to cry and some time to herself so she could pick up the pieces and try again.

  
**

  
Much to Javi’s relief, Cortney seems back to her old self by the time they head out for dinner. Let it not be said that Javier Fernandez Lopez was a bad date--he’d taken Cortney for a long sightseeing tour that afternoon--they had visited Castle Hill, gotten lost in the labyrinthine streets of Old Town (the number of French words Cortney knew could be counted on one hand, and Javi’s Spanish was of no help), and walked along the Promenade des Anglais. Brian would kill him for skipping practice but seeing Cortney smile after their day out had been worth it.

 

They go out for dinner and Javi has the pleasure of formally introducing Cortney to his parents. It's not the first time they've been been acquainted but Javi likes to think that introducing his girlfriend over Skype is leagues apart from introducing her in person at a sit down dinner. Dinner feels more official, more of a commitment. With Javi translating, they regale Javi's parents with stories of Toronto, their first Christmas together (Javi loves the idea of getting at least ten presents in one day and seriously pitches the idea of introducing that tradition into their family along with Santa Claus Day.) Javi's parents seem to like Cortney well enough and they make plans to spend more time with her during Worlds.

 

After Javi kisses Cortney goodbye, Laura walks him back to the hotel. Though it's been many years since they've had the chance to walk together like this, Javi can still read his sister well enough to tell she has something to say. So Javi waits and enjoys her company. It's not until they're standing in front of Javi's door that Laura breaks the ice at last. 

 

"You seem to like her."

 

Javi nods, half expecting this subject. Although Laura had been perfectly polite during dinner, she had stayed uncharacteristically quiet. Which was as strong a sign of disapproval as anything.

 

"I like her," he says. "She's fun, she's cute and we both like skating."

 

Laura frowns. 

 

"I still think she's too young for you. You're both too young."

 

Javi laughs, out of surprise more than anything.

 

"I'm twenty years old. I can date who I want."

 

Laura's frown only deepens.

 

"It's not that I don't like her--she seems like a nice girl," Laura says, pursing her lips. "But long distance relationships are harder than you think. There's more to being together with someone than just having fun. You have to be willing to be with them through the bad times too. I hope you understand that."

 

Javi reassures her that he does. 

 

**

 

The next day, Brian gives Javi an earful for skipping out on yesterday's practice. But as much as he'd like to berate Javi for his lackadaisical attitude, Javi's not the only skater he has to mind. Elene Gedevanishvili, coming out of Europeans with her second bronze medal, badgers Brian to review her double axel jump, which she suddenly feels insecure about despite having landed it just fine in practice.

 

And Elene’s not the only one on pins and needles. With the reality of the short program just a day away, Javi’s feeling the pressure, too. He’s determined to get the timing of his triple axel jumps down just right—something that he wasn’t able to do at Europeans, but Javi finds his attention drifting.

 

Javi snaps to attention just in time to avoid colliding with a skater. Instinctively, he turns and glides back into an awkward pirouette to dodge.

 

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” Javi hisses like an angry cat after the speeding skater. His eyes widen as he sees where the skater’s heading and before he can yell out a warning, a certain Japanese teenager catches sight of the skater charging at him and with a yelp, aborts his jump only to land heavily on his right foot as he narrowly misses the boards.

 

“Fine, fine, it ok,” Yuzuru Hanyu protests loudly as he gets back up, noticeably limping but otherwise unruffled from his spill on the ice. He looks terribly displeased by all of the attention he is receiving from his teammates. Daisuke Takahashi asks Takahiko Kozuka, 2011 Worlds silver medalist, to fetch some ice, who does so with such alarming speed that Javi swears the man had teleported.

 

“He was in the way,” the speeding skater protests in a strong French accent. Florent Amodio, Javi recognizes, and his stomach makes a few unpleasant turns. “My program music was playing—I have right of way.”

 

“Doesn’t mean you should just mow down any skater you see in your way, Florent,” Javi interrupts. “You could have seriously hurt someone.”

 

Florent reddens but stubbornly juts out his chin in defiance. “I was careful. And accidents can happen anyway.”

 

“Lucky no one was hurt,” Daisuke says diplomatically, after Yuzuru protests again, this time in Japanese. “But please be careful in future. We don’t want any accident.” Despite being way shorter, Daisuke easily drags the objecting teenager off the ice. Somehow, Javi wants to join them, if only to avoid speaking with Florent. They had managed to avoid exchanging any words at Europeans, and even still, Javi had tanked there, so Javi did not want to take any chances.

 

“Look, Javi…” Florent starts but then stops. “I just want to say…no hard feelings, right?”

 

Months of bitterness move Javi’s mouth before he could stop to censor himself.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

Florent flounders for a little, struggling to find the right words without coming off as condescending.

 

“Don’t take Nikolai’s words to heart, okay?” the skater finally says.

 

Javi scoffs.

 

“Why would I care what that asshole thinks?”

 

Florent winces before shrugging a little helplessly.

 

“Just forget him,” he says. “It’s sad to see you still so…haunted.”

 

If there’s one thing Javi despises more than condescension, it’s pity.

 

**

 

Javi slams his water bottle on the bench.

 

“I really, really want to hit something right now.”

 

Yuzuru, who had been icing his foot, hastily moves his Pooh bear out of the Spanish skater’s range.

 

“I don’t mean your Pooh,” Javi is quick to add, noticing the teen’s zealous protection of his tissue box companion. “It’s just an expression—I’m just, ugh, never mind.”

 

“Angry,” Yuzuru says, cautiously placing Pooh back onto the bench once he was quite sure of its safety.

 

“I’m not angry, just annoyed. Okay, maybe a lot annoyed,” Javi admits. “How’s your foot? He didn’t injure you, did he?”

 

“Angry bad. Best leave on ice,” Yuzuru says, completely ignoring Javi’s question.

 

“Easier said than done,” Javi grumbles before Brian calls him over for another run-through of his short program.

 

**

“Everything okay, Javi?” Brian suddenly asks Javi over team dinner later that night. Elene is still over the moon with her 7th place placement in the ladies’ short program, the highest she’s ever placed at Worlds, though Brian repeatedly reminds her that it’s too early to be celebrating just yet.

 

“Everything’s fine—why?”

 

Brian’s brow knits in thought. “You just seem tense, that’s all. Is it nerves? Anything you want to talk about?” He gives Javi his complete and undivided attention, his face bright and terribly earnest in a way Morozov’s never was. It’s a gaze that makes the Spanish skater want to open up and spill forth his darkest secrets and thoughts. But the thought of exposing that ugly part of him is something Javi isn’t ready for, not with Brian. He wants Brian to see only the best of him.

 

“Just the usual nerves, you know?” Javi forces a smile. “I do have this knack for bombing Worlds. I won’t lie that hasn’t crossed my mind.”

 

“Worlds is a lot of pressure,” Brian agrees. “But you’ve really made so much progress this season, Javi, I hope you’ve taken the time to appreciate that.”

 

“I have,” Javi insists.  “Really, I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me.”

 

“As a coach, those are the words I like to hear,” Brian says. “But you shouldn’t forget to thank the most important person of all.” Brian chuckles when Javi responds with blank-faced query. “I’m talking about _you_ , of course. I might have helped out with a few pointers—but let’s face it, Tracy and the rest of the team did most of the heavy lifting in that department—but in the end, it’s you that's skating. It's you that's putting yourself out there on the ice, making those jumps. You should be very proud of yourself, Javi, regardless of your final placement at Worlds.”

 

“Do you think I can medal at Worlds this year, Brian?”

 

“I have no doubt you are capable of a podium finish, Javi,” Brian says without hesitation.

 

“The question that should really be asked is whether _you_ think you can.”

 

 Javi doesn't know, but he's determined to try.

 

**

 

To no one’s surprise, Patrick Chan vaults to first after an almost clean short. The biggest surprise is that his lead is not as dominating as expected. Michal Brezina puts pressure on the reigning World Champion by skating a pristine short program—including a clean quad sal landing--for the first time all season and pulls up in second, less than two points behind Patrick. The Czech skater looks positively tickled pink in the kiss and cry. Daisuke Takahashi challenges the youth by placing third with another mesmerizing performance, his steps sharper than knives and body choreography smoother than silk. Now that they’re not in Canada, it’s overwhelmingly clear who the crowd favorite for World Champion from the thunderous applause the Japanese skater receives when he takes a bow at the end of his program.

 

Javi resolutely refuses to watch Florent’s skate, but he doesn’t need to. The burst of the home crowd’s cheering tells him all he needs to know. Florent, despite a fall, skates a season’s best and pulls up into fifth, right behind countryman Brian Joubert.

  

Yuzuru looks like he’s on his way to challenge for the top when he inexplicably chokes midway and pops a triple lutz into a single. It’s an uncharacteristic mistake for the Japanese rookie to make and Javi wonders if the pressure was just too much for him. Yuzuru falls into sixth after Florent. The Japanese teenager looks crestfallen for a second but nods with acceptance and takes an ice pack offered by his coach.

 

Javi’s up next after Takahiko Kozuka, whose shockingly subpar skate knocks him into 12th—the man’s such a steady skater and to see him fall twice during his short program was jarring. Javi knows he’ll need his best to rally the crowd back.

 

He opens with his quad toe. Javi tilts a little more forward than he’s comfortable with, but he saves the landing without putting a hand down and more importantly, without breaking the rhythm. Normally an early mistake would have turned Javi into a basketcase, but Javi knows better. He trusts in his training.

 

Jeffrey had once told Javi that if music was a place, then jazz would be the city—fun, diverse, full of life and uniquely its own. Javi didn’t really get the metaphor, but he _did_ understand he had to make the program uniquely _Javier Fernandez_ to sell it. Jumps were only half the battle and it's the second half of the program that Javi will really need to make an impression for the judges. Javi puts everything into his spins and his step sequence, homing in on every little detail with a focus that feels almost foreign. Like a new kind of Javi, a Javi that was confident, a Javi with a legitimate chance of making the podium, a Javi who could _win_.

 

It’s not perfect but he gives it his all, the first he’s ever done at Worlds, a performance he can finally be satisfied with. Javi places fifth, ahead of Florent (Javi suppresses a grin) and just behind Brian Joubert. The gap between the top five men is less than eight points. Anything could happen.

 

The next day, on the day of the free skate, Javi wonders when everything had gone so horribly wrong and how, in spite of everything he had done to improve his game, he had let victory slip through his fingers once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**
> 
> [1] Cortney Mansour is a Canadian ice dancer who Javi started dating back in fall of 2011 (sometime after Javi moved to Toronto to train at The Cricket Club). Although they are based in the same city, due to their different disciplines and their different training schedules, they maintain a long-distance relationship. Javi spends his first Christmas with Cortney in December 2011, where he is introduced to the North American tradition of consumerist Christmas aka presents and more presents. Unlike Javi, Cortney's skating career is far from successful. They place 3rd to last in the preliminary ice dance round and don't make the cut for the main competition.
> 
> [2] Yuzuru Hanyu sprains his right ankle during short program practice. His injury was so bad, that he could hardly walk, let alone skate, and he considered withdrawing but decided to fight through it. He conceals the injury so well that news of the injury were not revealed until after Worlds.
> 
> [3] The World Figure Skating Championships ("Worlds") is an annual figure skating competition that's generally considered as the most prestigious of figure skating competitions, second only to the Winter Olympics. Unlike the GPF, there are A LOT of skaters for each category since each national skating federation is allowed to send at least one skater. After the short program, the top 24 single skaters and top 20 pairs advance to the free skate.
> 
> [4] In addition to coaching Javi, Brian also coached Elene Gedevanishvili, representing Georgia, to her second bronze medal at 2012 Europeans.
> 
> [5] I obviously glossed over most of the short programs for the men, but a few performances worth highlighting:
> 
> \- Patrick Chan: Much improved from the last version we saw at GPF, though not quite perfect. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0GnaVlVQ1Lc&t) to watch Patrick's SP.
> 
> \- Michal Brezina: Hooray! Michal finally skates a clean short this season just in time for Worlds, landing his quad salchow clean for the first time! Not a bad 22nd birthday present to place second in the short program! Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hzpz3Mj9dbY) to watch Michal's SP.
> 
> \- Daisuke Takahashi: The quad jump seems to be Dai's biggest thorn in his side, but it seems like a minor issue when his skating skills and performative artistry easily puts him as a top contender for the podium. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z75HCyqYKQY) to watch Daisuke's SP.
> 
> \- Florent Amodio: One of Nikolai Morozov's favorite pupils and really, one of the reasons why Javi ended up breaking things off with Morozov in the first place when he realized that playing second fiddle to Florent, among other reasons, wasn't in his best interest as a competitive skater. Florent places 6th in the short program. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cGg3H0NXE7g) to watch Florent's SP.
> 
> \- Yuzuru Hanyu: Yuzuru upgrades his opening quad toe to a quad-toe, double-toe combination jump, which he successfully lands. An otherwise almost perfect performance, except for the popped triple lutz jump, due to his sprained ankle injury, we later find out. The fact that he could skate this well despite being in excruciating pain is nothing short of astounding. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T8C6Wnlcf7c) to watch Yuzuru's SP.
> 
> \- Javi himself: After a subpar showing at 2012 Europeans, Javi starts off strong at Worlds with a respectable 5th place in the short program, definitely within striking distance for the podium. It's not a season's best, but the energy and personality he exudes in his short program definitely captures the audience. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_24Q_lQrzs&t) to watch Javi's SP.
> 
> **Next Chapter Preview: _El grito de Romeo_ (The cry of Romeo)**
> 
> Javi spies a wireless hotel phone right by the pool deck. Shuffling sideways like a crab, he picks up the phone and dials the front desk.
> 
> "How may I be of assistance, _monsieur_?"
> 
> "How to say this...? There's a swan in your swimming pool, sir."
> 
> "I beg your pardon?"
> 
> "Like I said. There's a giant swan, just swimming in the pool."
> 
> A pause. "You're quite sure it's not a duck--?"
> 
> "I think I know the difference between a duck and swan, but thanks anyway." Javi hangs up with a huff. He stares at the pool, which is currently occupied. "Hey, you don't mind sharing? I hope you don't have rabies or anything."
> 
> The swan only honks and placidly swims on. Javi sighs.


	11. El grito de Romeo (The cry of Romeo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru astounds the entire world with his "Romeo and Juliet" free skate at Worlds. In other news, Javi finds himself beleaguered by swans of all kinds--the feathery, flying kind and the _other_ feathery, flying kind of the metaphorical (but somehow also very literal) variety. At least only one of the swans is looking to cash in on a bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra helpings of Yuzu and Javi in this chapter as we finish out our 2012 Worlds. I wrote like a possessed madman to get this out because there's nothing worse to me than dangling a half-finished story arc over readers' heads.
> 
> This will be the last update in a while. I'll need a little time to do some more research for the next season. 2012-13 is a season which I admittedly have watched very little of since it's not the most spectacular season for Yuzu (it's great for Javi though!). 
> 
> Please enjoy Part 2 of the 2012 World Championships!

Practice goes so well the next day, it sets Javi’s nerves on edge. His free skate run through is perfect, jumps and spins, the whole package. Brian offers Javi his water bottle, accompanied by a reassuring shoulder pat.

 

“Just skate like that in the free and you’ll be set,” Brian tells him, looking satisfied.

 

Javi nods, looking distractedly out the door. Brian has to call to him twice to ask what he wants for lunch.

 

“I’ll eat anything, as long as it isn’t snails or frog legs,” Javi replies, recalling with a shudder the last time he and Cortney tried to do the fancy romantic thing for their third date.

 

**

 

The first flight for men singles starts promptly at 12:30 local time, as scheduled. Javi’s in the final flight. There's twenty four skaters total, so it'll be a while before it's Javi's turn on the ice. The new waiting time is something new to experience. Given his placements at past Worlds, he’s typically been in one of the earlier flights, so the waiting was never a concern before. Javi can tell the waiting seems new for Brian too, from the way he fidgets and paces about.

 

“Careful, Brian, you might wear out the floor,” Javi points out in mid stretch. His coach stares at him, flabbergasted, before chuckling and sitting down.

 

“Sorry, guess I’m a little nervous. I used to drive Yuna crazy with my pacing too.”

 

It’s the first time Brian’s mentioned his former student, the reigning Olympic gold medalist. Javi doesn’t know what exactly he should say. Their infamous break-up less than two years ago had rocked the figure skating community then, and though that media storm had long passed, Javi knows it’s still a sensitive topic for Brian.

 

“It doesn’t bother me,” Javi decides to say. “I’m just looking out for the welfare of the floor.”

 

“We’ve barely been together for a season and you’re already getting way too cheeky.” But Brian is smiling.

 

Javi notices that Brian’s coffee cup is empty.

 

“Let me get you another one,” Javi offers.

 

“Oh no, I’m fine, Javi,” Brian protests to no avail. Javi’s mind is made up.

 

“I could do with a walk, and my water bottle needs a refill anyway.”

 

Javi trots out into the hallway. He passes Daisuke Takahashi, who is steadily jogging at an even, unhurried pace, listening to some music, taking each step with single-minded determination. As Javi rounds the corner, he sees Yuzuru.

 

The Japanese skater is crouched at the feet of one of the vending machines—a closer look tells Javi the skater’s fixated on an ice dispenser. Yuzuru keeps pressing the dispense button repeatedly while peering into the dispensing chute, with a perplexed expression as to why the ice was not coming out. A number flashes red on the side panel.

 

“You’re short fifty cents.” Javi fishes out a fifty-cent euro coin and deposits the coin into the coin slot. The machine rumbles and a neat pile of crushed ice pours into Yuzuru’s bottle. The Japanese skater’s head pops up, mouth slightly open in surprise. Flushing red, he murmurs a thank you as he takes his cup.

 

“What do you need so much ice for?” Javi asks after he gets Brian’s coffee drink. “If you want water, there's drinking fountains near the warm up room.”

 

Yuzuru just shakes his head mutely before proceeding to pour the ice into a plastic bag. Javi watches, fascinated, as the boy shapes the ice into a poultice-like shape with practiced ease and wrapping the plastic securely to prevent any mess. As he turns to walk away, Javi catches a glimpse of a well-concealed wince as Yuzuru steps on his right foot.

 

The horrible truth hits Javi like a punch in the gut.

 

“You’re injured.”

 

Yuzuru stops and turns around.

 

“It no problem. Can skate.” Off-ice, Javi can suddenly discern the injury much more easily and wonders how the hell no one else seems to have noticed. How much the kid is favoring his left leg over his right. How he just limped ever so slightly when he stepped down or pivoted with his right. He guesses the right ankle is sprained, most likely from that near collision with Florent the day before the men’s short program. Which was insane because the kid must have been in agony while skating his short.

 

“Are you crazy? Why are you still skating if you busted your ankle? You should withdraw—there’s no way you’d hold up during the free!” Suddenly, all of Brian’s warning lectures regarding safety and safeguards against injury come rushing to the forefront of the Spanish skater’s mind. Injury was something that all skaters (at least the sane ones) took very seriously. One neglected injury could cost a skater’s entire career. Javi cannot think there was a worse way to go out as a skater.

 

Yuzuru frowns, slowly shaking his head.

 

“I must skate,” he says, wringing the homemade ice pack with his gloved hands. There’s a lengthy pause as if the boy wants to say something more but is unable to find the right words. He then flashes Javi a sharp smile. “Remember bet?”

 

It’s Javi’s turn to be at a loss at words. “I…what? Why are you even thinking about a stupid bet right now?”

 

Yuzuru’s smile vanishes. He cocks his head and looks up and down, as if reevaluating Javi’s worth. “Bet not stupid. Afraid you lose?”

 

“I’m just afraid you’re going to break yourself,” Javi honestly answers, but he’s also getting a little annoyed. God this kid was stubborn. “But if you want to go out there and really play your part, fall down until you can’t get back up, who am I to stop you, Romeo?”

 

Yuzuru’s brow furrows so deeply in concentration that his eyebrows start to slope inward as he processes Javi’s words.

 

“Watch,” Yuzuru finally says before walking away. “I make Romeo fly.”

 

**

Yuzuru is in the second to last flight group, scheduled to skate right after Jeremy Abbott, who visibly fights for nearly every one of his jumps with a dogged determination to pull up into second behind Denis Ten of Kazakhstan. Javi hands Brian his coffee and sips from his water bottle.

 

“You took awhile—did you get a good warm-up along the way?” Brian asks but Javi’s not paying attention. His eyes are glued to the ridiculously stubborn skater who takes the ice like an ill-tempered bull ready to throw down with the matador that will most certainly get away.

 

There is no fear or pain in the kid’s eyes, only alien calm.

 

The music starts and Yuzuru moves with it, quick like a bird, as he picks up speed. Not a stroke on the ice is wasted as Yuzuru crosses over and readies himself for his opening quad toe. He kicks off with his toe pick, spinning like a top and lands the jump cleanly, arms aloft. With a flourish of his wrists, he glides into the steps for his next jump. A moment of deceptive languidness as he slides into a spread eagle before flying into a triple axel as smooth and easy as you like. Almost mockingly, Yuzuru challenges the buttery ease of the triple axel with a beautiful triple flip before diving into a change foot sit spin, fast and even.

 

A triple lutz. Javi sees Yuzuru fight for all three rotations—no singled lutzes this time—followed by a double-toe with arms clasped high over his head, straight as an arrow. Yuzuru shows the hot-headed Romeo’s sensitive side in his circular step sequence, wooing the audience with charming travel spins, arms moving about in wild but almost tender gestures to an unseen Juliet, beseeching her to leave with him from her balcony—

 

The fall! A slap in the face as any! Yuzuru’s left leg gives out as he tumbles face down on the ice. Yuzuru climbs to his feet, hurrying to rejoin the music, to find his Juliet, who destiny seems determined to keep him away from, forever and ever. Javi can see the Japanese skater bite his lip, eyes narrowing as he crashes down onto the ice with a triple-axel, triple-toe combination jump, all the while concentrating all of the suppressed pain from his ankle by grabbing hold of his right wrist before letting it all go. After all, what is love without pain? Flying without falling? Romeo will see that this story has a happy ending—it _must._

Triple-lutz, double-toe, and double-toe. Romeo avoids the trap of Zayak with his second combination jump. Nothing can stop him now. A heavenward gaze into his layback Ina Bauer, Romeo can see the end in sight. Friar Lawrence has a plan to save Juliet, to save them both. All Romeo needs is to wait, to bide his time—Yuzuru slips in a triple loop, then a change-foot combination spin—Romeo waits and waits and _waits_ , only to hear of his beloved Juliet’s death—

 

Fist clenched and arm raised, Romeo _screams._ With eyes fit to kill, Yuzuru channels every fiber of pain and rage into his choreographic step sequence, the ice seeming to shiver with each stroke. He kneels one knee on the ice, head bobbing, hair flying, sweat dripping out of every pore of his skin before swinging around to skate with a reckless, maddening abandon that was one part fury, two parts exhaustion and all parts joy.

 

Romeo’s end is nigh but Yuzuru is determined to rewrite his tragic tale. With the adrenaline rush of a dying man who knows he has nothing to lose but everything to gain, Yuzuru throws himself into his final jump—the triple salchow—and nails it. The final combination spin that exits into a hauntingly stunning Biellmann—Romeo dies.

 

Only Yuzuru Hanyu remains.

 

The audience goes mad, rising in a standing ovation. The last vestiges of the young Japanese skater’s strength leaves him completely. Yuzuru has his head tucked between his knees, like an ostrich with a head in the sand, gasping for dear life, like a newly resurrected Juliet. His coach, Nanami Abe, dissolves into tears.

 

Javi, strangely, feels like crying too. But how else do you respond to a performance like that?

 

Yuzuru Hanyu finishes with a free skate score of 173.99, a season's and personal best. He overwhelmingly takes the lead.

  

**

 

The next day, Javi spends the entire morning lounging in bed. He doesn’t think he ever wants to leave the room, but Laura lures him out with his mother’s tapas and Javi finds himself having brunch with his family and Brian. It’s a surprisingly nice meal. His family likes Brian, who has no problems regaling them with tales of Javi that typically end in Brian ripping his hair out. The food is good—a mix of good Spanish comfort food with French bread and condiments on the side—Brian’s brought a nice red wine—and everyone avoids talking about Worlds with a natural ease.

 

“What are your plans for next year?” Laura suddenly asks Brian towards the end of the meal. She is pointedly not looking at Javi. Javi scowls at her usual tactic at poking him out of his shell.

 

Brian chews thoughtfully on a jamón croqueta. “It’ll be back to Toronto for me tomorrow night,” he says. “Maybe a few days of rest, before starting back up again. We call it off-season, but there’s always something going on.”

 

“Take Javi with you?” Javi’s mother asks.

 

Brian blinks.

 

“Of course. We’ve got a lot of training we’ll need to work on together. Unless you wanted to stay a few more days with your family, Javi?”

 

Everyone looks at Javi. Javi wants to hide underneath the table, if only to hide his overwhelming gratitude for Brian’s faith in him.

 

Laura scoffs and kicks him under the table.

 

“This _idiota_ thinks he can leave you so easily. Please take good care of him in future as you have now, Mr. Orser.”

 

Brian beams. While Javi’s father is uncorking the wine bottle Brian has brought, Javi kicks Laura back.

 

**

 

Javi spies a wireless hotel phone right by the pool deck. Shuffling sideways like a crab, he picks up the phone and dials the front desk.

 

"How may I be of assistance, _monsieur_?"

 

"How to say this...? There's a swan in the swimming pool, sir."

 

"I beg your pardon?"

 

"Like I said. There's a giant swan, just swimming in the pool."

 

A pause. "You're quite sure it's not a duck--?"

 

"I think I know the difference between a duck and swan, but thanks anyway." Javi hangs up with a huff. He stares at the pool, currently occupied. "Hey, you don't mind sharing? I hope you don't have rabies or anything."

 

The swan only honks and placidly swims on. Javi sighs.

 

All Javi wanted to do was to go for a relaxing swim after lunch but fate had other plans for him. Still, weirder things have happened to Javi. The bird looks clean enough and is all the way on the other end of the pool. As long as Javi sticks to his side, he figures he should be fine.

 

Javi slips into the water before relaxing. The pool water’s nice and warm. Javi floats on his back in the water, eyes closed as he soaks in the sun from above. He opens an eye to check on the swan. Yep, the swan was still there, ruffling its feathers as it preens. It stops preening when it catches Javi looking at it.

 

“Don’t be shy, just keep doing your bird thing,” Javi encourages it and then realizes something. “Maybe you’re a French bird, so Spanish wouldn’t be much good. Sorry, I don’t know any French, except bad words.”

 

The swan snorts in disinterest.

 

“Or maybe you’re actually a long way from home? Where’s home for you, buddy? Maybe Canada? Some place up north?” Javi tries in English. “Russia? England? Japan? Maybe you have _Espanya_ blood, like me?”

 

The swan honks loudly and fans its wings in agitation. Javi stands up in alarm and raises both arms.

 

“Okay, okay, maybe none of those places. Sorry, I don’t know much about swans. Or birds.” Javi sinks back into the water once the large bird seems to settle down. Javi looks up at the big blue sky, water lapping at his ears.

 

“Sometimes, I wish I could fly, you know? Fly far, far away and meet new people, see new places, new things, without having to worry about coming back down for a long, long time. You’re a bird, you have it lucky. You can go anywhere you like.”

 

The swan squawks as if in agreement. Javi closes his eyes.

 

“I thought if I got into skating, I could find it. Do all those things,” Javi chuckles bitterly, his mind unwillingly going back to his disastrous free skate, and the popped jumps, the axel fall. His eyes sting a little, and he tells himself it’s the chlorine. “But all I seem to know is how to fall.”

 

There is a beating of wings. Javi feels something press heavily on his chest. He opens his eyes and nearly screams. The swan is right on top of him and dear Lord, the bird is huge up close—too close. Javi and the swan are practically nose to beak. The Spanish skater holds his breath, feeling all too conscious of the swan’s webbed toes on his chest (its right foot, Javi notices, seems a little more knobbed than the left), the curve of its neck, the hardness of its black-tipped beak, which looms closer and closer to Javi’s face until it touches Javi’s cheek and lingers there for a moment.

 

“You’re a weird bird, aren’t you?” Javi laughs nervously as the bird continues to rub its beak on his cheek in a weird bird caress. The swan squawks and Javi lets out a yelp when the bird does an about face and nips Javi’s ear sharply before taking flight.

 

“Hey, you don’t just go around biting people!” Javi rises out of the water and makes a grab for the swan, which honks and hovers tauntingly just out of reach. The swan lands on a pool chair, teasing Javi as he climbs out of the pool, chlorine stinging his eyes. Javi teases by honking right back, half-heartedly chasing the bird as it flutters above his head only to land a few meters away to honk invitingly again.

 

Javi laughs.

 

“Look at me, I’m talking to a friggin _bird._ ”

 

The swan only warbles in reply before taking to the air. This time the swan doesn’t come back.

 

**

 

While Javi is packing his suitcase for tomorrow’s flight back (he doesn’t know how Brian convinced him to take a flight back at six in the morning, but he knows it’s the last time he’s going to do it), he hears a gentle knock at the door.

 

“Coming!” he hollers and wonders if it’s Cortney; she had mentioned possible dinner plans or something (Javi hadn’t been in the best mindset to be attentively listening at the time). As he walks towards the door, he hears the sound of running feet.

 

When Javi opens the door, he’s greeted by silence.

 

“What the—?” Javi looks down and sees a white envelope with his name written on it in neat script. He opens the envelope, which contains two items—a ticket to the gala exhibition and the gala performance schedule. Having not placed high enough at Worlds, Javi hadn’t planned on attending the gala, but a program name on the schedule catches the Spanish skater’s eye.

 

Javi checks the time and makes a snap decision. He grabs his jacket and hurries out the door. If he runs, he can catch the last shuttle from the hotel.

 

**

 

Javi knows he’s made it just in time when he sees a figure garbed in white and purple feathers make his way to the center of the rink. In the darkness of the audience seating area, no one notices Javi slip into one of the seats near the front row. All eyes are glued to the Japanese skater gazing solemnly down at the ice.

 

The program music starts up, the familiar notes of Ikuko Kawai’s rendition of “White Legend” filling the arena. Yuzuru Hanyu knelts on the ice, his forehead touching the ice, fingers and arms splayed straight out, as if in reverent prayer. His arms lift off in a flutter of wings. He rises and skates, moving slowly, smoothly across the ice, weaving his arms around in lazy circles. Yuzuru builds up the speed and Javi can see it clearly now, the swan he's become, as he glides almost to a standstill before he leaps into the air, straight into a triple axel and lands with the arms aloft, one arm sweeping forward like a swan fanning its wing forward to show off its brilliant white plumage.

 

Then the doughnut spin, with the free hand waving with the soft delicacy of fluttering down feathers. With the crescendo of the rising violin notes, the swan rises, stretching its wings more fully, beating them more powerfully, a dazzling display of avian strength and beauty.

 

Yuzuru pops what Javi assumes to be an intended triple-triple combination jump, but never once does the skater break his strange bird-like dance. He spins, flying across the ice; he arches his back and leg into the swan’s curving neck silhouette in his Beillmann spin before fluttering to his ending pose.

 

Javi joins the audience in their applause, perhaps a bit more appreciatively than your average fan. He can say with reasonably good authority that Yuzuru did a very good imitation of a swan.

 

**

 

Javi has to wait until Yuzuru Hanyu escapes his fans by making a mad dash for the dressing room (luckily, Daisuke Takahashi’s superstar presence easily distracts the most zealous of fans). The boy stops dead in his tracks when he sees Javi sitting next to his Pooh.

 

“Hey,” Javi says and pats the Pooh tissue box. “Just keeping your friend company.”

 

“You come,” Yuzuru says cautiously, radiating a business-like intensity.

 

“Yeah, I wasn’t exactly invited, since I tanked the free.” Javi scratches his head. “But I guess someone up there likes me. I got free tickets—so thought I should come watch.”

 

“You like gala?” Yuzuru asks.

 

Javi nods and holds out Pooh, which Yuzuru accepts.

 

“I’m glad I came,” he says. “I thought about quitting.”

 

“You quit skating?” There’s a note of panic in the Japanese skater’s voice, so harsh that it’s not just Javi but Yuzuru himself who seems most surprised by his own dismay.

 

“No, not anymore,” Javi hastily adds before the kid could give himself an asthma attack. “I thought about it, yesterday. I don’t like losing. And I lose a lot in skating.”

 

“No one like losing,” Yuzuru agrees. “But quit skating, this never!”

 

“Well, that’s easy for you to say, Mr. World Bronze Medalist.”

 

Yuzuru chews his lip. “Not good. Want more.”

 

“You want more?” Javi laughs. “You are a greedy guy, aren’t you? Most people would be happy with any medal at their first Worlds.”

 

“You not want gold?”

 

Javi sputters. “Well, of course I do. Who doesn’t?”

 

“Get gold next Worlds,” Yuzuru suggests, making the task seem as easy as breathing air. He appears to change his mind. “No, silver. For you is ok.”

 

“What—you want the gold for yourself?” Yuzuru only smirks. Javi marvels at this kid’s confidence.

 

“It’s back to Japan for you?”

 

Yuzuru nods vigorously and begins to babble. Javi catches “ice show”, “skating” and “school”, the English words mixed in with the rapid Japanese. Finally, the kid slows down to look at Javi quizzically. “You?”

 

“I’m flying back to Toronto with Brian tomorrow,” Javi tells him. “I might be doing some ice shows too, maybe in Japan—I don’t know yet. But we won’t be seeing each other until next season.” Realization hits him. Javi holds out a hand, which Yuzuru looks at oddly. “Congrats. On winning the bet.”

 

Yuzuru brightens and claps his hands before accepting Javi’s. He then fumbles for something in his duffel bag. Javi looks on, rather amused, as Yuzuru pulls out a pen and pad of paper.

 

“Are we going to make it official in writing? You’re taking this bet very seriously…”

 

“What I want. I say now.” Yuzuru gestures, and Javi understands to lean in to listen. It’s not hard, as they’re almost the same height.

 

“Okay, what do you want?” Javi asks, curious in spite of himself. He wonders what kind of strange request the skater will make. Knowing Yuzuru (and he realizes that he doesn’t really know anything about the skater at all), it could be something completely crazy.

 

Yuzuru cups his hands to his mouth and whispers in Javi’s ear.

 

Javi listens, his eyes widening with shock. He then nods and accepts Yuzuru’s request.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**
> 
>  
> 
> [1] Yuzuru's FS at 2012 Worlds--it's heralded as arguably his best Worlds performance of his career to date and really the highlight of the entire competition (aside from Daisuke Takahashi's free skate which also received a standing ovation). A powerful, mesmerizing emotional performance that really put Yuzuru on the map as a top contender for future Worlds, Yuzuru's FS had the highest TES points out of any skater, including Patrick Chan. He vaults from seventh place to take bronze, medaling at his Worlds debut. Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZUu_enuxWdc) to watch his FS at 2012 Worlds.
> 
> [2] It's anticlimatic but I skipped over Javi's FS at Worlds, which was unfortunately, one of the most dismal performances we've seen from him. He basically had a total meltdown, popping several of his triples, and had a bad fall on one of his triple axels. It's a pretty bad way to end his breakout season and Javi's FS ends up ranking in 14th (out of 24!), his overall standing slipping from fifth to ninth overall. So no podium finish for our Spanish skater this season :(
> 
> [3] Yuzuru Hanyu ditches his JB EX after the Grand Prix season to bring back "White Legend", his SP from last season. Dare I say I love "White Legend" as an EX more than an SP? There are fewer jumps but more room for Yuzuru to really highlight his artistry and musical interpretation...I've also a huge weakness for the costume as well. :) Click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPyx92EZ6ho&t) to watch his 2012 Worlds EX.
> 
>  
> 
> **Next Chapter Preview: To dream of gold**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Dear Mr. Brian Orser of Toronto,_
> 
>  
> 
> _Hello. You may not have heard of me so I will introduce myself. My name is Yuzuru Hanyu. I am seventeen years old. I am a figure skater from Sendai, Japan. My dream is to win Olympic gold in Sochi. I believe you are the best person to help me grasp that dream and make it reality._


	12. To dream of gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once, Brian had vowed that he would never go into coaching. Yet, somehow, here he was, flying out to Sendai to meet a prospective student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss me guys? My new class schedule for the next three months (in preparation for one of the most important exams of my life) affords exactly 5 minutes a night to work on this. Apologies if this feels a little more fragmented than usual--five minute writing bursts will do that.
> 
> Happy Lunar New Year for those of you who celebrate it!
> 
> Anyone expecting this chapter to jump straight to Yuzu's first day at TCC will be a mite disappointed. For a change of pace, let's have a chapter that's _not_ Javi-centric. You'll see these interludes pop up every now and then, usually after a major competition or turning point.
> 
> Enjoy the first interlude with Brian!

_Dear Mr. Brian Orser of Toronto,_

_Hello. You may not have heard of me so I will introduce myself. My name is Yuzuru Hanyu. I am seventeen years old. I am a figure skater from Sendai, Japan. My dream is to win Olympic gold in Sochi. I believe you are the best person to help me grasp that dream and make it reality._

 

I set down the letter down on my airplane tray. A passing flight attendant courteously informs me that we were preparing to land soon, so I tuck the letter away and flip the tray back up to lock it in place.

 

To tell you the truth, I’m surprised. And I'm not one who surprises easily. Even having read the letter ten times already, three of those times during the fifteen hour flight, I still can’t wrap my head around this request. Out of all of the coaches out there in the world, why me?

 

I found myself asking a similar question when Yuna came to me in 2006. Back then, I wasn't even a real coach, just a show skater who got thrown into a skating directorship gig at the Cricket Club when they needed someone to manage things. Although I had not yet had the chance to work closely with her, I could deduce Yuna's aspirations even then--to master the triple axel, the signature move of her greatest rival and the legendary jump that eluded most ladies in figure skating. Although her axel was one of her best jumps--really, her jumps, in general, were good--the triple axel eluded her, though she definitely didn’t need it to win in Vancouver. I can’t help but wonder if my failure to teach her the jump I was so good at myself was yet another one of the many signs that our team was never meant to be.

 

_Just as a fledgling outgrows its nest and must learn to fly, so must I. I have lived in Japan my whole life. It is my home, and all I know. I am young, but know I must learn from the best, even if that means flying thousands and thousands of kilometers away. I choose you because you are the best._

 

Best? Hardly! Yuna was by no means a perfect skater then, but I was truly fortunate to have had the chance to work with her. Yuna was young too, around Yuzuru’s age, when she came to me. Newly crowned Junior World Champion, she was looking to make a big splash in her senior debut season and needed a place to train, a sanctuary tucked away in some distant corner of the globe, away from the intrusive eyes and loud voices of the media. She liked the serenity (and privacy) of the Cricket Club, the feel of the ice on her blades. Quiet and demure, but smoldering with this fire to win, Yuna, after taking lessons, decided to stay the summer. She sought me out, persistent in her requests to be coached, even though I initially had turned her down, due to prior commitments I had to honor. I was on tour then, and did not feel comfortable leaving her coach-less at the time. I didn't think I had the time to fully commit to her coaching needs.

 

(I still wonder if things might have been different, if I had been more attentive as a coach. If I had tried harder to understand her, to be more aware of what she needed, to be more sensitive to the troubles on her mind.)

 

It was flattering, though, and humbling, to see her belief in me, to see her know exactly what she wanted and how to get there. Yuna was a young woman with a grand vision, a dream of gold. God knows I was never that sure of myself when I was her age. No one ever wants to be a rookie coach’s first student, but somehow, against all reasonable odds, she wanted to be mine.

 

Skating is one thing, coaching is another. When you skate and fall, you hurt only yourself. When your skater falls, both of you hurt.

 

The emotional commitment of coaching also scared me, scares me still. I was too emotional of a coach, to the point where my telegraphed disappointment had badly affected his own emotions, Adam told me rather apologetically before we had parted ways. It was not the only thing we had disagreed over, but this was one that has stuck. I knew I needed to be less emotional when my skaters didn't skate well, but it was hard. It's hard for me to hold it in the end, even knowing that the cameras would still be rolling, documenting every facial tic and reaction for future generations of viewers to view again and again. It's natural for a coach to celebrate their skater's successes, their triumphs, their personal bests. It's also natural for a coach, no matter how stoically they carry themselves, to be genuinely disappointed when their student has a disastrous skate, to turn that disappointment inwards, towards yourself, for failing your skater. Some are just better at hiding it, but I've never mastered this trick.

 

In the end, Yuna's dogged determination gave me the courage to take that leap of faith with her and try.

 

Well, _try_ anyway. No one said anything about succeeding, but without a doubt, we were all thinking it, breathed it even. That's how badly we all wanted it.

 

(Until things to came an end, and it no longer mattered.)

 

_I choose you for two reasons also. The first, for your training facility in Toronto. I have heard the rink is big and beautiful. Skaters skate for as long as they like. They get coaching from skate specialists, as many as there are colors in the sky. Spins, steps, jumps, an expert for every part of skating. Everything for the perfect skate._

 

My coaching failures aside, developing the coaching program at the Cricket Club is an achievement I _do_ take pride in. I didn’t do it alone. Tracy and I did it together. What started off as a consulting gig turned into our life's work. The coaches and the staff there were amazing, talented folks--the trouble was the struggle to garner interest in a community where interest in ice hockey eclipsed figure skating. Rather than overhaul the whole system, we brought on David Wilson, whose astounding choreographic talent single-handedly brought droves of skaters, both local and international, to the Cricket Club's doors. Life bloomed back into what had been a once desolate skating facility. Skaters--both young and old--beginner and world-class level alike--carved out edges on the same ice, the rink echoing with the warmth of voices and laughter. It was an entirely successful revival for us all in many ways, especially for Tracy, who found a renewed sense of life I hadn't seen in her since her competition days with Rob. The Cricket Club became a home for us all, for the coaches and the staff and for the skaters and their families that came for the lessons, the summer camps, the choreographic sessions, for anyone looking to have a good time on the ice.

 

_The second reason. Because of your work with Mr. Fernandez and his quad jumps. Jumps are not everything, but jumps are my strongest weapon for Sochi. Quad toe is not enough. I must learn the secret to quad sal._

 

If there's a secret to quad sal, I'd like to know it too! I remember when Javi reached out to me, to see if I'd be willing to coach him. He’d attended one of our summer camp sessions, after parting ways with Morozov. (Adam had come to Toronto in much the same way.). We’d all taken a liking to Javi, the Madrileño with the “cute accent” (Elene’s words, not mine). Enormous talent, a natural jumper with a beautiful salchow, Javi had a good instinct for performance and interpretation. Unfortunately, he was also lazy.

 

 _Seriously_ lazy. Javi certainly liked to skate, and even more to win, but his work ethic was a far cry from his level of ambition. He’d show up to an afternoon practice session, often fifteen, thirty minutes late, all sheepish grin. He’d take his time getting onto the ice, chatting it up with the girls and the guys, squeezing in a selfie or two, swinging by the lounge to exchange a friendly word or two with the coaches, all before hitting the ice. And hit the ice, he did, but only to the whimsical beat of his own drum, after he was good and ready.

 

Javi was a powerful jumper, but he was careless. His skating skills needed a lot of work. He was sloppy--the transitions, jump entries, edgework, spins. Especially the spins. Tracy, David and I had many a drink after going over those spins, especially Tracy, because she knew Javi, despite his protests that he was not a natural spinner, was capable of beautiful spins when he applied himself. I had had no reservations with his abilities as a skater but I did have reservations about his commitment to the rigors of training seriously. I told him I'd take him on, but he had to bring his best game. Shortly after Javi had lost funding support from his skating federation later that summer, he had come to my office, brow uncharacteristically furrowed and face drawn with a grim determination that was new.

 

"I've been stupid," he had said to me, cutting to the chase. "I haven't brought my best, and only a fool would think anything less than best would win. I'm done fooling around--I want to win. I'll work hard now."

 

"Okay," I had said. "I expect you to see you tomorrow afternoon at practice, one o'clock sharp. All warmed up."

 

From that day forth, Javi's attendance improved markedly. He's not perfect--I still catch him sometimes sneaking in a few minutes late sometimes, but on the ice, he gives it his all. And his hard work has paid off. Worlds didn't go the way he wanted, but the loss has only increased his drive to improve.

 

_I want to become a skater who is good at everything. Not only jumps, but spins, steps, edges, all skating skills. I want to fly high, to soar without limit. I will work hard to do everything to win gold._

_If you are interested and wish to discuss, I invite you to come to Sendai to evaluate my skate, to see if it meets expectations. Thank you for your time._

 

**

  
A representative from the JSF meets me at the airport. His name is Daichi Nakamura, an amiable man with a perpetual slight smile. He speaks English with a tinge of a British accent, and easily switches back and forth between Japanese and English with eel-like ease. Though not from the area, Daichi speaks of many things about the city, pointing out sights of Sendai, a city famous for its trees, for beef tongue and for Date Masamune memorabilia. He speaks of the rapid, ongoing reconstruction efforts, of the charity ice shows that took place the summer before, a cause that rallied the best of Japan's skaters to raise awareness and funds for the disaster struck regions, including Sendai. I listen attentively but am still caught off-guard when Daichi casually throws out an impossible number.

 

"I'm sorry--what?" I think I must have misheard him, but the interpreter only affirms the number.

 

"Hanyu- _senshu_ participated in sixty ice shows this past season--"

 

I find myself suddenly fearing for Yuzuru's health.

 

Daichi takes me to Ice Rink Sendai, Yuzuru's home rink, a nondescript building in the middle of a shopping center. He informs me that I came at a good time--Yuzuru was able to book private on-ice time for the first time in weeks. Daichi only smiles apologetically when he catches the incredulous look on my face.

 

"It's difficult for all Japanese skaters," he says with a minute shrug. "So many skaters, not enough skating rinks."

 

"How much ice-time does Yuzuru typically get?" I ask.

 

Daichi doesn't know but he introduces me to someone who does. Nanami Abe, a sweet woman, has been coaching Yuzuru since his novice years. Daichi relays my question and she answers back in soft, steady Japanese, which Daichi quickly translates.

 

" _During the competition season, Yuzuru averages about one to two hours of on-ice training a day,_ " Nanami says. " _It is not ideal, but we have made it work over the years. A little off-ice training, but not much. It is something, I understand, Yuzuru is interested in, to become a complete skater."_

 

They invite me to come watch. When Nanami is about to call out to her student, I request her to stop, and have Daichi explain to her that I would like to use the moment to watch Yuzuru skate without interference. Nanami nods in understanding and takes me to an area right by the bleachers, far enough from the boards not to be immediately noticed but close enough for a good view of the rink.

 

Yuzuru puts the ice aside from his right ankle and carefully laces up his skates, humming softly under his breath to a song he listens from his earphones. I had heard somewhere that Yuzuru had skated Worlds this year with an injured ankle, and it looks like the injury was still healing several weeks later. Once he had finished, Yuzuru performs a few easy leg and arm stretches before removing his earphones and mp3 player and setting them aside to walk to the ice. He stops right by the boards. Placing his hands together and dipping his head, Yuzuru bows to the ice before removing his skating guards and stepping out onto the ice. He bends down, legs long and straight, to touch the ice with both hands. I think it's some kind of odd stretch before Daichi, with Nanami's input, clarifies it's a little skating ritual Yuzuru's always done, his way of greeting the ice.

 

Yuzuru starts, moving across ice in quick crossovers in a lap along the boards. A counter turn, followed by a triple axel with great ice coverage and height. I can't believe how effortless it looks, the way Yuzuru just flies across the ice like a bird. Nanami watches on with a quiet pride as Yuzuru moves into jumping practice, transitioning from the triple axel to practice his triple loop, triple lutz, triple flip. With a breath, Yuzuru throws himself into a quad toe, landing it clean. Encouraged by his success, Yuzuru picks up a bit more speed, his legs angled as he scoops his free leg back--I hold my breath, half in wonder and half in prayer--as Yuzuru attempts the quad salchow jump, only to fall short on the rotations and crash onto the ice. He hisses in pain but shakes it off, climbing back to his feet, brushing off the ice bits and loops around the rink before trying again. This time, he makes the four rotations, but steps out of the landing.

 

I clap. Yuzuru snaps his head up so fast I was afraid he had pulled something. His eyes widen comically, as big as saucers, when he sees me.

 

"Hanyu- _senshu_ , this is Mr. Brian Orser, the skating director at the Toronto Cricket, Skating and Curling Club," Daichi introduces us in English after relaying the purpose of my visit in rapid Japanese. Yuzuru nods, looking rather serious for a seventeen year old boy, but I can tell from the impatient way his blades tap the ice that he is more excited that his subdued demeanor suggests.

 

"Nice to meet you, Orser- _san,_ " Yuzuru says to me, with an embarrassed bow. "Sorry, my English bad." He looks as if he has more to say, but after floundering for words, he switches back to Japanese and speaks with Nanami and Daichi.

 

"That's fine," I tell him, though slightly surprised. I kick myself mentally for not considering it earlier, but the fact that Yuzuru must have had help with the letter he had sent was now as clear as day. Perhaps Daichi had helped with the translation? When I ask, Daichi only looks confused and there's more back and forth with Yuzuru and Daichi before Daichi seems to have grasped the situation.

 

"Sorry for the confusion," Daichi says. "I did not know that Hanyu _-senshu_ had reached out to you personally on his own. He says he had help writing the letter from a fellow skater during Worlds. He did not mean to deceive you with his English proficiency and understands it is a skill he will need to work on. The feelings and thoughts in the letter are, however, are entirely his own."

 

"Thank you for the letter," I tell Yuzuru, whose eyes light up as Daichi translates. Up close, and off-ice, Yuzuru seems thinner in person somehow, all legs and arms like a little human octopus. "It was well written. I came as you suggested to see you skate and assess your skating skills."

 

"Skate now?" Yuzuru asks, looking somewhat crestfallen when he was informed I had been evaluating what he thought was a subpar jumping session.

 

"I've seen you skate many times in competition last season," I tell him. "Do you remember Cup of China?"

 

Yuzuru's head bobs up and down, a little uncertainly.

 

"Your short program was quite good," I said. "But you tired during the free. At all of your competitions this season."

 

Yuzuru turns pink and mutters something in Japanese.

 

"He was very nervous during the warm-up, and feels embarrassed you recall his poor performance," Daichi translated. With Nanami's additional remark, he also adds, "Hanyu- _senshu_ has asthma, so stamina is an issue."

 

I nod, mentally noting that off-ice training would be beneficial for Yuzuru and as well some skating skill sessions with Tracy. Tracy has worked with asthmatic skaters before; granted, none of them were internationally ranked competitors with a World Championship medal to their name. She would have some good ideas on what training regimens would be good at building up muscle and stamina without compromising jumping ability and flexibility. Before I realize it, I've done it again, been reeled in hook, line and sinker--like an old dog that falls for the same trick over and over again. Already, I was thinking of Yuzuru as my skater, without considering his feelings, like I had done with Yuna, with Adam, with Christina. I should already be satisfied with Elene and Javi, who were coming into their own and against all odds, we seemed to have a good thing going. But good things rarely last.

 

I really shouldn't be taking on more skaters. Not to mention that the logistics would be far from ideal. Obviously, his training situation in Japan was not ideal; 1-2 hours a day was simply not enough ice time, even for an asthmatic skater with stamina issues. Toronto was simply too far away to travel--he'd have to move at least semi-permanently and even with that arrangement, that would still be a lot of traveling. Not to mention the culture and language shock he'd have to deal with, the trauma of uprooting and leaving his family, friends, his hometown--

 

"Be my coach, Mr. Orser?" Yuzuru asks, his voice sounding small, uncertain.

 

I know I shouldn't look, but I open my eyes and look anyway. I see a fire dancing in his eyes, burning just as brightly, as fiercely as Yuna's did that day. Like a moth drawn to the flame, I'm sucked in again, irresistibly drawn despite the danger of getting burned.

 

"I would be honored to," I tell him. "But I have to talk to Javi first, to see if it is okay with him. Would you be willing to wait for my answer?"

 

To my shock, Yuzuru only nods and smiles almost knowingly, as if he has expected this reply all along.

 

"Is right thing to do," he says, somehow pleased with my tentative reply. "I wait."

 

**

 

"How was Japan?" Javi asks me after practice the next day. "Eat any good sushi while you were there?"

 

"It was a very short trip, to be honest," I tell him. "Not much time for sightseeing. Do you have a minute to talk?"

 

"Sure." Javi looks mystified, but follows me into my office, plunking down comfortably in the seat across from my desk.

 

"I'm not in trouble, am I?" Javi asks, half-joking.

 

"Not at all," I assure him, before jumping straight to the point. "Do you remember Yuzuru Hanyu?"

 

Recognition dawns on his face. "Yeah, the Japanese kid with the crazy triple axel." I take this as encouragement to continue.

 

"He's asked me to coach him."

 

"He's coming here? To train here, at the Cricket Club?" Javi looks excited in spite of himself. But maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm misreading Javi, just as I had misread Yuna all those years ago. The look of betrayal on her face when Mao Asada was mentioned in the rumors, which I emphatically denied, was a look I never wanted to see on any of my skaters ever again.

 

"I haven't agreed yet," I tell him, hurrying to get the words out. "Not without everyone's okay. Certainly, not without your okay."

 

"You're asking  _me_ , for  _my_ permission?" Javi clarifies, his tone rising in wonder. My chest grows a little tight at the sight. Even now, Javi is reluctant to speak about his years under Nikolai; it's a shadowy part of his past that he refuses to look back on, even though it's obvious that he hasn't completely made peace with it. 

 

"Of course," I say and pause, suddenly inflicted by doubt. What if Javi was actually uncomfortable with the idea of having a rival invading his practices, ruthlessly analyzing his every move? What if he were to agree simply because he felt he had no other alternative if he wanted to stay with the Cricket Club? What if I was being no better than Morozov, taking on a new skater just because I could sense the enormous potential sleeping inside?

 

"Javi, I--"

 

"Sure, I'm cool with it," Javi says, all nonchalance.

 

"You're cool with it?" I echoed his words to confirm. Javi nods, this time more enthusiastically.

 

"Yeah, I don't mind. It'll make things more interesting around here, won't it?" He gets up from his chair. "Was that all?"

 

"Yes, that's it," I answer, still dumbfounded. Javi only nods before skipping out the door.

 

I'm working on an email with a coaching contract to send to the JSF when Tracy pokes her head in the door.

 

"Two things, Brian. What did you say to Javi to plaster that silly grin on his face and tell me your secret so I can use it to motivate him next time during stroking practice."

 

"What's this about Javi?" I hit send and settle back in my chair.

 

"Don't play coy, Brian, you're not good at it." Tracy sits down in the chair recently occupied by Javi. She props a hand under her chin to study me. "Let me guess. The only paperwork you have on your desk are copies of new skater coaching contracts and a new blank file folder with liability forms and Cricket Club welcome marketing materials. Hmm...did a certain Japanese skater succeed in capturing your heart?"

 

"There's some paperwork left," I admit. "But we'll be welcoming a new member to the club next week."

 

"Well, you won't have to worry about Javi," Tracy reassures me. "He was practically jumping off the walls when he left just now--I think he's excited to have a new training mate. Someone who can compete on his level." A grimace. "Someone who might actually make him come to practice on time."

 

"I think Yuzu will be a good influence on Javi," I tell her, thinking back to the sheer intensity of the practice I had witnessed in Sendai. I had a feeling Yuzuru's work ethic was not going to be an issue at all.

 

"Oh, we're already calling him 'Yuzu' now, are we?" Tracy teases with a laugh. "He must have really impressed you. I can't wait to meet him."

 

"Oh, you'll like him," I say, recalling Yuzuru's dark eyes, as bright as stars, his gaze as intent and deep as the ocean as they looked at something far off in the distance, at something only he could clearly see himself grasping. A dream of gold.

 

I can't wait for us to get started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**
> 
>  
> 
> [1] Yuna Kim, arguably the most iconic ladies figure skater of all time, was Brian's first skater in the summer of 2006. She and Brian had a successful partnership, and Brian coached her to win gold at the 2009 World Championships as well as gold at 2010 Vancouver Olympics. A few months after Olympics, Brian and Yuna parted ways in August 2010, a coaching split that was unexpected, sudden and heart-breaking. It was a nasty break-up that only intensified with mudslinging from both sides of the media...hardly the ideal way to end what had been a heartwarming partnership.
> 
> [2] Adam Rippon, American figure skater, left Nikolai Morozov in November 2007 and joined up with Brian and the Cricket Club in December 2008. He leaves Brian in June 2011 after an unspectacular season to train in Detroit, Michigan; both Brian and Adam cited differences in training philosophies as a contributing factor to Adam's decision to leave. Unlike Yuna, Adam's parting with Brian was much more amicable.
> 
> [3] Christina Gao, American figure skater, relocated from Kentucky to join Brian in 2009 due to limited ice time at home. She leaves Toronto after Junior Worlds in March 2012 and officially leaves Brian in June 2012, switching training locations to accommodate her studies as a full-time Harvard student. Christina's decision to balance studies and skating was fully supported by Brian and Team Cricket.
> 
> [4] Brian Orser and Tracy Wilson were hired as consultants by the Cricket Club to revitalize their declining figure skating program in 2006. What started as a three month consulting job, turned into long-lived coaching and teaching careers for them both! Brian, Tracy, as well as Tracy's late ice-dance partner, Rob McCall were close friends who all competed and medaled at the 1988 Winter Olympics in Calgary. Bringing on David Wilson, renowned Canadian choreographer certainly boosted the Cricket Club's popularity among world-class skaters. As an Olympian ice-dancer, Tracy is a skating skill specialist.
> 
> [5] You can't be a Yuzuru Hanyu fan without knowing about the tragedy that changed his life. The 2011 Tohoku tsunami and earthquake which hit in March 2011, devastated the Tohoku region of Japan, including Yuzuru's hometown of Sendai. Yuzuru was actually at his home rink at the time of the quake and in a panic, he ran out of the building in his skates. Ever since, Yuzuru's become a spokesperson for the reconstruction efforts of the affected regions and participated in 60 charity ice shows that year to raise funds and awareness.  
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Next Chapter Preview: _El joven de Sendai_ (The young man from Sendai)**
> 
>  
> 
> Javi curses under his breath as he dashes through the sliding glass doors of the Cricket Club. He's overslept again (throwing the alarm clock at the wall, however satisfying, did not help with his punctuality), skipped out on breakfast and lunch, and has only a scolding session with Brian to look forward to.
> 
> "Late~" Elene Gedevanishvili sings across the ice as Javi dumps his gear on the bench and strips off his jacket, moving his arms in quick circles to stretch. 
> 
> "Oh, shush," Javi says, without heat. If he's lucky, he can slip out onto the ice before Brian or one of the other coaches notice.
> 
> "You should have come early. You missed out on something special," Elene tells him, leaning against the boards.
> 
> "Yeah? And what did I miss out on?" Javi asks, only half interested as he focuses on lacing up his skates.
> 
> "The world's biggest triple axel." Elene mimes at an unspecified height above her head. "It was _this_ big, pinky swear."
> 
> Javi gives her a look before shaking his head. "Elene, if you're going to lie, you're going to have to make it believable."
> 
> Elene huffs and snatches a tissue from a Pooh tissue box that perched on the boards next to her.
> 
> "Okay, maybe it wasn't _that_ big," she admits as she blows her nose. "But it was still the biggest triple axel I've ever seen. Ever."
> 
> "I'll show you the biggest triple axel you've ever seen today," Javi promises her. He stands up, finally finished with his skates. He takes out his sports bottle to take a drink and notices the new tissue box. "Is this yours? Since when were you a fan of Winnie the Pooh?"
> 
> "Is mine."
> 
> Javi turns. Yuzuru Hanyu shyly waves before bowing deeply.
> 
> "Hello, my name is Yuzuru Hanyu. Nice to meet you."
> 
> Javi drops his sports bottle.


	13. El joven de Sendai (The young man from Sendai)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Javi regrets his decision to marathon Swan Lake with Cortney, a certain skater from Sendai makes a splash at the Cricket Club in Toronto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I tried my hand at fluff. O.o After writing this chapter I can officially conclude, I can't write fluff. Fluff is an art form beyond me.
> 
> There is much skating, more talking, and talking about skating. No skating about talking but we're getting there.
> 
> Also, fun fact: the setting of the opening scene is based on a real place. Kudos to any reader who guesses correctly!
> 
> Next update will most likely be after Four Continents! I will be a zombie after livestreaming it but will have zero regrets!

Night, the witching hour. Javi takes pride in not investing in this kind of occultist nonsense, but part of him can’t resist the urge to shrink away and hide. It’s dark, shadows press in on him, the breeze whistles through him in a chilly embrace. Javi shivers. He’s in some kind of park, the cultivated flora sinister under the illumination of a single, flickering lamppost.

 

The lamppost dies. There’s a dull roar, growing louder, so big it can be felt. Javi doesn’t dare look back—he runs.

 

Feet heavy and slow, like he’s skating knee deep in maple syrup—why would he be skating in syrup he doesn't know—but aside from the steady pound, pound, pound of his running shoes, the frenetic thrumming of his own frantic heart in synchrony with his sobbing lungs, Javi runs. Past a great castle of bricks and steel, through a pavilion of cast iron and glass, past the dense leafy corridors of tropical trees flanked by stone dragons and mammoths, crouching in wait. Stars glitter like fairy dust overhead, only to die as they are smothered by the growing dark nipping at Javi’s heels.

 

Javi hurries, he doesn’t have any time left.

 

Javi makes it to the clearing just in time. Without hesitation, he dashes into the water, the lake waves lapping at his ankles. Finally, he turns back and the darkness pulls away, pausing just at the lake’s edge, a specter waiting.

 

A cry so beautiful, it shatters the world. The swan descends, as bright as stars and white as light. It flies over Javi’s head, wings sweeping out dazzling brilliance, a corona of warmth. The dark snarls, but shrinks away from the light, away from the swan’s dance. The swan circles the lake’s fountain, wingbeats soft as clouds and smooth as glass. It dives, spiraling round and round, the circles growing tighter, wings stroking swifter, feathers blurring, glowing brighter and brighter. The waters still, the lake sighs when the swan brushes the surface, webbed feet lighting down to caress the waters below.

 

A burst of light. The waters freeze, locking into a perfect sheet of ice, waiting to be carved. Where the swan stood, only a man remains.

 

Bathed in light and shadow, the man stands stock still on the ice, back turned to Javi. In the half-light, Javi can see the man’s top garbed in pure white, filigreed with gold.

 

A drumbeat. Vibrates the ice like rolling thunder. One arm raised high over his head, like a swan raising its wing to fly, the man holds this pose and listens. Waits.

 

The piercing sound of flutes, sharp enough to split the earth. Javi’s numb with cold, but he can’t take his eyes off the man, who moves across the ice in graceful steps that reverberate with power, the blades of his skates ghosting over the ice in whisper soft edges. The mix of echoing drums, discordant flutes, and vibrating strings converge in haunting symphony as the man flies, leaping into the most perfect quadruple salchow Javi has ever seen.

 

Javi gasps. Startled, the man turns around—

 

Javi jolts awake, greeted by the sounds of chirping birds. He gazes blearily at his alarm clock. Definitely too early for practice. He flops back into his pillow and pulls the covers back over his head.

 

 _That’s the last time I let Cortney convince me to watch Swan Lake_ , the Spaniard recalls their Skype date last night, which ended up turning into Cortney wrangling him into viewing tons of ballet and musical clips in her efforts to pick a new program for next season. He yawns hugely before drifting back to sleep again.

**

 

Javi curses under his breath as he dashes through the sliding glass doors of the Cricket Club. He's overslept again (throwing the alarm clock at the wall, however satisfying, did not help with his punctuality), skipped out on breakfast and lunch, and has only a scolding session with Brian to look forward to.

 

"Late~" Elene Gedevanishvili sings across the ice as Javi dumps his gear on the bench and strips off his jacket, moving his arms in quick circles to stretch.

 

"Oh, shush," Javi says, without heat. If he's lucky, he can slip out onto the ice before Brian or one of the other coaches notice.

 

"You should have come early. You missed out on something special," Elene tells him, drawing nearer and carefully stepping off the ice, snapping on her skate guards with practiced ease. She leans towards Javi.

 

"Yeah? And what did I miss out on?" Javi asks, only half interested as he focuses on lacing up his skates.

 

"The world's biggest triple axel." Elene mimes at an unspecified height above her head. "It was this big, pinky swear."

 

Javi gives her a look before shaking his head. "Elene, if you're going to lie, you're going to have to make it believable."

 

Elene huffs and snatches a tissue from a Pooh tissue box that perched on the bench by her.

 

"Okay, maybe it wasn't _that_ big," she admits as she blows her nose. "But it was still the biggest triple axel I've ever seen. _Ever_."

 

"I'll show you the biggest triple axel you've ever seen today," Javi promises her. He stands up, finally finished with his skates. He takes out his sports bottle to take a drink and notices the new tissue box. "Is this yours? Since when were you a fan of Winnie the Pooh?"

 

"Is mine."

 

Javi turns. Yuzuru Hanyu shyly waves before bowing deeply.

 

"Hello, my name is Yuzuru Hanyu. Nice to meet you."

 

Javi drops his sports bottle, water splashing over his skates and spilling onto the floor. Elene shrieks a little and jumps back with a stumble.

 

Javi turns beet red and quickly bends down to reach for the fallen bottle. At the same time, Yuzuru’s already knelt down as well, hand outstretched to help. Before their hands can close in on the bottle, their foreheads meet first and Javi falls back on his butt to minimize the impact.

 

“Ow--shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Javi’s forehead is still smarting but honestly, he’s more worried about the damage to Yuzuru, who was so thin, it looked like a strong breeze could knock him over. The Japanese skater, still kneeling but otherwise seems still in one piece, offers Javi his bottle with a hesitant smile.

 

“Thanks.” Javi accepts the bottle, desperately trying to ignore Elene’s snickering in the background. “You sure you’re okay? I have a pretty hard head…”

 

“Is fine,” Yuzuru says, with a bright smile and bows again. “Sorry I hurt you. And big mess. Get towel and clean.”

 

“No, really, it’s fine.” He’s about to point out that the mentioned mess was entirely his fault, but the Japanese skater has already walked off in his skates and comes back with a fluffy towel to mop the spill.

 

“Seriously, you don’t have to do that,” Javi protests, feeling more embarrassed than ever as he grabs a towel of his own to help. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact that this crazy Japanese kid had flown across the Pacific Ocean to come train in Toronto. And mop up messes, by the diligent way the kid was tending to the spill. If Javi didn’t know any better, he’d say the kid was trying to polish the floor while he was at it.

 

“Javi, there you are. Don’t think that I didn’t see you sneak in late.” Brian comes striding in, clipboard and pen in hand. “I want to introduce you to--Yuzuru, what are you doing on the floor?”

 

In a blink of an eye, Yuzuru’s already on his feet again, towel clasped behind his back as he gracefully bows again, this time to Brian.

 

“Hello, Mr. Orser,” Yuzuru greets him, speaking slowly, with rehearsed deliberation, his tongue working double-time to make the 'l’s' distinct from the 'r’s'.

 

Javi suppresses a laugh as Brian splutters, obviously unused to the Japanese skater’s formality.

 

“Really, you can just call me Brian,” Brian manages to say. “I might be your coach, but we like to keep things informal around here, if that’s fine with you, Yuzuru?” Yuzuru starts a little, his face scrunching up in concentration before he nods vigorously.

 

“Ok, Brian- _coach_ ,” he says, drawing out the name as if trying to engrave it into his memory.

  
“Right.” Brian smiles encouragingly. “Let me introduce you--I’m sure you’ve seen each other at competition last season but you probably haven’t been formally introduced--Yuzuru, this is Javier. And Elene. They both competed at Nice last season.”

 

Naturally, there is more bowing from Yuzuru, and Elene giggles when Yuzuru bows again, murmuring something in Japanese when she decides to reply with a curtsy just to see how he’d react. Javi draws the line when Yuzuru calls him, “Mr. Fernandez.”

 

“Oh god, please don’t call me that--Mr. Fernandez is my dad.” Javi makes a face and holds out a hand. It feels a little weird to introduce himself, considering they’ve already met, but it’s the first time they’ve shaken hands. “Nice to meet you, Yuzuru."

 

Yuzu accepts the handshake without hesitation, lips drawn up in a small smile.

 

“Nice to meet you, Javi- _err_.” It's Yuzuru's turn to make a face when he struggles to draw out the ‘r’ sound properly.

 

“Don’t kill yourself, kid. Just call me Javi.”

 

“Javi- _errr_ ,” Yuzuru repeats, his face set in a stubborn pout.

 

Javi can already tell that it was going to be an interesting practice.

  
**

 

Javi usually takes a while to warm up, sometimes lapping around the ice a few more times than necessary. It’s the beginning of the off-season, and Javi takes the time to just enjoy skating, the relaxed feel of his blades biting edges into the ice, the easy sensation of gliding without a care in the world.

 

Yuzuru snaps Javi out of his serene world with one of his signature triple axel jumps, followed up by a quad toe jump. Elene shrieks with delight, Peter Liebers gapes from the lounge, and all Brian can do is let out a little surprised chuckle while Tracy shakes her head with disbelief. One of the junior skaters hurriedly pulls out her phone to capture the moment when Ernest Pryhitka, one of the assistant coaches, admonishes her with a reminder of the club’s strict no phone photography policy.

 

Not that Yuzuru notices. He’s lost in his own little world he’s created, a realm of perfect triple axels and quad toes. There wasn’t even a need for program music--Yuzuru's jumps alone had a song of their own. Watching him jump after jump stokes a familiar fire in Javi and before the Spanish skater can stop himself, he’s gliding to the center of the ice, right in Yuzuru’s line of sight, and leaps into his favorite jump, the quadruple salchow. Javi lands with a flourish of his arms and pulls to a stop, savoring the rush of adrenaline.

 

When he turns around, he sees Yuzuru staring at him, his eyes wide with wonder.

 

Javi grins.

 

**

 

The next couple of weeks, Javi finds himself arriving to practice on time more often than not, if only to catch a glimpse of Yuzuru. (Tracy and Brian share not-so-secret grins at this.) Yuzuru typically attended the morning sessions and left right before afternoon practice so Javi only usually caught him right when he was leaving the building, pulling his little rolling backpack after him. Even the excitement of a new rinkmate isn’t quite enough to get Javi to switch his afternoon practice schedule around--one couldn’t compete with biology, after all and Javi's circadian rhythm just didn't work with mornings. But sometimes, Javi catches Yuzuru lingering during afternoon practice, watching from behind the giant glass wall in the lounge. It doesn’t take Javi long to figure out that the Japanese skater does this whenever Javi’s scheduled for jumping practice.

 

Javi’s not sure what to make of the Japanese skater’s fascination with his jumps. When Yuzuru had made his request to collect on their bet in Nice, Javi was certain he had misunderstood or misheard.

 

“You want my help in writing a letter to Brian? To ask him to coach you?”

 

Yuzuru nodded solemnly, mouth set in a grim line.

 

Javi scratched his head. Of all of the things he imagined Yuzuru would say, this was not one of them. “Um, wow. Sure. Is it okay if I ask why? You don’t like your coach?”

 

“No!” Yuzuru wrung his gloved hands before punctuating his distress with a burst of Japanese. For a moment, Javi had been afraid he had somehow made the skater cry, but Yuzuru had only scowled, murmured something under his breath, before elaborating. “Nanami- _sensei,_ I like. Very much. Is not why...I don’t….I don’t want to go.” Yuzuru looked up to stare at Javi. “Canada far.” He waved his hand. “Too far. But must go. I must.”

 

“So you like your coach but want to leave her anyway for a new coach thousands of kilometers away,” Javi summarized. “Yeah, that makes total sense.”

 

Yuzuru grimaced. “Need get stronger, better jumps, better skate.” He eyed Javi hungrily. “Need nice quad jump like you.”

 

It is with the same hunger then that lurks in the Japanese skater’s eyes when he watches Javi during jumping practice. Javi’s not sure what he’s expecting to see. A godly quad salchow to match the skater’s pristine triple axel? Unlike Yuzuru’s triple axels, Javi’s quad sals aren’t consistently effortless. In fact, despite landing most of them well in competition, Javi falls on them more often than not during practice. This usually doesn’t bother Javi; falling is just part of practice but with a new set of eyes intently homing in on every jump, every twist of the hip, every swing of the leg, Javi can’t help but feel a little more self-conscious than usual. He can’t very well ask Yuzuru not to watch without sounding like a complete jerk, so he decides to go the indirect route and ask Brian.

 

“Not that I mind an audience, but do you know why Yuzuru hangs out during jumping practice? I mean, I’m sure he’d want to do the jumps during his jump practice--or am I really that interesting to watch?”

 

“He hasn’t been assigned any jumping practice sessions,” Brian replies.

 

Javi stops dead in his tracks, genuinely shocked.

 

“Really? No jumping practice at all? So for the last two weeks, he’s been doing just skating skills? That’s it?”

 

Brian arches an eyebrow. “‘Just skating skills’, Javi?”

 

Javi clamps his mouth shut and laughs nervously, while frantically praying that Brian is kind enough to not let Tracy have it with him during their next stroking session.

 

“Well, you know what I mean…” Javi coughs. “I just thought, he’s such a good jumper...I thought you’d have him, I dunno, working on a new quad, or something. It’s what he came for.”

 

“How would you know that?” Brian asks suspiciously. When Javi whistles and looks the other way, Brian sighs and lets it go. “He _is_ a good jumper. That’s the problem.”

 

“Not a bad problem to have.”

 

“You _would_ say that,” Brian grumbles, putting down his clipboard.  "The fact that Yuzuru’s gotten this far in competitive skating with his jumps alone is a testament to his natural skill. He’s very talented. Jumping is instinctive to him, just like it is for you.”

 

Javi mock-bows to Brian, who chuckles.

 

“But you know as well as I that there’s more to skating than jumps,” Brian continues. “His spins are good, but they can be better. His skating skills need a lot of work. Skating foundations may be easy to learn, but that doesn’t mean they’re easily mastered. The best skaters know they can _always_ do their basics better. You learned that when you first came here and it’s something Yuzuru will have to learn as well. It's bitter work--he needs patience.”

 

“You sure you got the message across?” Javi asks, glancing at the glass wall. Yuzuru’s still there, his head bent over, his hand flying as he scribbles in what appears to be a thick notebook. Javi wonders what he could possibly be taking notes on. “I think he’s still thinking about the jumps. I know the feeling of wanting to fly but being told no, Brian. It’ll drive anyone crazy.”

 

Brian’s brow knits in frustration.

 

“We’re working on it,” he says, more to himself than to Javi. “He keeps telling us, ‘yes, yes’ but I’m not sure how much he actually understands.”

 

**

 

The next day, Yuzuru shows up an hour late to afternoon practice, dragging his roller suitcase like a wounded animal. He’s out of breath, sweating profusely, face pale as a sheet, and looks as if he’s about to keel over on the spot, but still manages to muster the strength to bow so low that his head is at the same height as his waist.

 

“Sorry, sorry, for late.” Yuzuru murmurs repeatedly, a nervous wreck despite Tracy’s attempts to soothe him. Javi’s never seen Yuzuru look quite this upset. As Yuzuru wrenches open his suitcase to unpack, his Pooh tissue box falls out onto the ground. Javi picks it up and offers it to Yuzuru.

 

“Thank you.” Yuzuru accepts Pooh, giving it a quick, fierce cuddle before placing it in the suitcase. Papers fly out, including a copy of what looks like a subway schedule, with key stops circled in red. Javi studies the schedule before placing it back with Yuzuru’s things.

 

“If you take the subway to York Mills Station, there’s a bus you can catch. It’s a lot quicker.”

 

Yuzuru stares, eyes dark and inscrutable.

 

Javi shrugs. “You’re not the only one to get off on the wrong stop. When I first moved to Toronto, it took me like three months before I could figure out how to get to practice without getting lost.”

 

It was actually closer to five months, but there’s no way in hell that Javi’s going to admit that. Some truths were better left unsaid.

 

**

 

After Brian debriefs everyone on the plan for next week, everyone’s dismissed from practice. Javi, while packing up, glances at his phone on the bench and sees a text from Cortney apologizing for not making it to their planned dinner tonight--she’s got a call to interview with a potential new ice dance partner that can’t be rescheduled. He texts back a quick “np, good luck” with a thumbs up emoticon and sets the phone back down.

 

Javi’s a bit disappointed considering they haven’t seen each other in person since Nice, but understands the urgency Cortney is feeling after leaving her last ice dance partner. Good partners were hard to find and it was unlikely that there would be enough time to train for the next season, even if this ice dance partner happened to be “the one”. Even with good chemistry, it took months and months of practice for partners to gel together to the point they could synchronize on all of their ice dance elements and Cortney was particularly finicky about her partners.

 

Javi’s halfway to the bus stop when he realizes that he’s left behind his phone. Groaning inwardly, he backpedals and turns around to go back and get it. The club’s closed now but luckily, Brian’s deemed him responsible enough to have a key of his own, though it’s the first time Javi’s had to use it. He quickly sneaks around and unlocks the back door.

 

Javi flips the hallway switch on and walks. As he nears the rink, he’s suddenly aware of the familiar growl of skating blades on ice. He wonders who could be practicing so late after practice. When he sees a familiar lithe silhouette gliding across the ice, he finds himself not surprised at all.

 

Javi’s no coach, but even he can tell that in just two weeks, Tracy’s stroking sessions are already having a noticeable effect on Yuzuru’s skating. Not that Yuzuru’s skating was bad to begin with, but the contrast was startling to see. The Japanese skater’s movements were more precise somehow, smoother, more powerful. He seemed to get a bit more power and speed with fewer strokes. Javi watches quietly, stopping just at the edge of the ice to watch as Yuzuru glides on one foot and leaps into his triple axel only to hurtle out of axis and crash down on the ice. Javi winces. He’s never seen Yuzuru miss his triple axel jump before, from what little he’s seen in practice.

 

The grim truth comes out in the next few minutes when Yuzuru attempts his triple axel, only to overrotate and step out of the landing. He tries the quadruple toe and falls. Another quad toe, followed by a fall. He gives up the quad toe and tries the other jumps. A triple loop, a fall. The triple flip, a step out and then a fall. By the time Yuzuru tries to go for the lutz and falls yet again, Javi can’t watch anymore.

 

Looking around, Javi sees a rack of rental figure skates just behind the receptionist’s desk. Taking great care not to be seen, Javi gets behind the rack and pushes it down as hard as he can. The rack topples over with a resounding thud as skates tumble onto the wooden floor.

 

Yuzuru, half kneeling on the ice, freezes at the racket Javi’s just made. His eyes dart around nervously, face drawn with the realization that perhaps he’s not supposed to be here, practicing dangerous jumps unsupervised in a strange rink that’s not his own. Just as Javi’s hoped, Yuzuru leaves the ice posthaste, removing his skates and taking off in a hurry without a backwards glance.

 

Javi gives himself a quick pat on his back for a good deed done before turning his attention to the mess he’s made with a groan, all the while hoping that he hasn’t broken anything too expensive.

 

**

  
The following day, while the other senior level skaters gape at the rental skate rack, which has been inexplicably rearranged upside down overnight, (Javi denies everything), Yuzuru comes to afternoon practice ten minutes early, armed with a charmingly polite smile and eyes of attack. The aura of determination only intensifies when he steps out onto the ice to warm up, easing into the new stroking exercises Tracy had shown him this week. No jumps so far, but Javi can see Yuzuru’s eyes flicker to Brian’s office, where he’s having a meeting with the other coaches. Javi wonders if Yuzuru’s crazy enough to break Tracy’s “no jumps” rule right under Tracy's nose. As the Japanese teen skates by him, slashing the ice with adamant vigor, Javi thinks that yes, he was crazy enough.

 

Yuzuru goes for the triple axel, his body blurring in a miniature tornado before he spins off axis and crashes down on the ice. This time, when he looks up, he's looking at Javi, who's standing right in front of him.

 

"You know you don't have to do everything by yourself, right?" English is not Javi's native language but it's the first time in a long while since he's had to really search for the right words. "Brian, Tracy, everyone here's to help. But that's no good, unless you let them--unless you let us help you." 

 

Yuzuru continues to stare.

 

Javi awkwardly clears his throat.

 

"You spin so fast, you were flying," Javi tells him. "But maybe, you could please slow down for the rest of us? So we can catch up?"

 

A small smile flits across Yuzuru's face. 

 

"Slow down, not good training for you," he says. "If want to catch me, need skate fast also." 

 

"You challenging me, Yuzuru?" Javi offers his hand.

 

Yuzuru grins. "Yes, I challenge."

 

He takes Javi's hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**
> 
> [1] Yuzuru leaves his beloved Sendai and switches coaches to train at the Cricket Club, officially joining Team Brian in May 2012. He travels back and forth between Sendai to attend high school (omg, he's still a high school kid at this point) and Toronto to train. Contrary to Yuzuru's desire to practice quad jumps (and learn the secret art of quad sal), Brian and Tracy put Yuzuru on a training menu that is predominantly skating skills--they recognized that while Yuzuru is a very good jumper, having a strong skating skills foundation would allow him to improve his stamina and skate more efficiently with greater speed and power. Unfortunately, going back to the basics also meant Yuzuru having to recalibrate his jumping technique, since he was now skating at a new speed where he couldn't control. Expect a lot of falls this season as Yuzuru works out the kinks!
> 
> **Next Chapter Preview: _Hogar legos del hogar_ (Home away from home)**
> 
> Javi's never seen David look quite so stressed, but Yuzuru is not exactly making things easy for the choreographer. They've spent over two hours pouring over the selections David has brought for them. Javi has already chosen. Yuzuru, despite having patiently listened to all of them, still has his heart set on the one program David won't do. He looks at David beseechingly.
> 
> David, unfortunately, is made of harder stuff than Brian.
> 
> "I really don't think you should do Phantom," David says to Yuzuru, who's nodding despite disagreeing. "It's kind of overdone, and by kind of, I mean, _really_ overdone. Besides, Lori already did one for Patrick just two seasons ago, so it's not a good idea to repeat that. People will think you're copying."
> 
> Yuzuru juts out his chin in defiance. "Not copy. My skate is my skate. Skate different." A pause. "Skate better."
> 
> Javi laughs. David chuckles too, but is firm in his choice.
> 
> "I know this is our first time working together, so I just want to give you a little guidance. I'm not asking for much. You can pick anything you like. _Except_ Phantom."
> 
> Yuzuru chews his lip. "Anything?"
> 
> David realizes the danger in his words and hastily adds, "Within reason" just as Yuzuru's eyes light up and he claps his hands.
> 
> "Oh! Can we do Johnny Weir? Please?"
> 
> David sighs.
> 
> "Wow, Brian really wasn't kidding when he said you were a Weir fanboy."
> 
> Yuzuru bobs his head up and down, perking up at the prospect of doing a program by one of his favorite skaters. "Fallen Angel? Ave Maria?"
> 
> David rubs his temples. "So putting aside the fact it's kind of bad taste to copy an Olympic season program, you _do_ know that _I_ actually choreographed Fallen Angel for Johnny, right? So that would be totally weird for me to do that program again."
> 
> Yuzuru puts a finger to his lips, deep in thought. "The Swan?"
> 
> The Canadian choreographer facepalms, much to Javi and Yuzuru's mutual fascination.
> 
> "Okay, when I say anything, I mean no Olympic programs, nothing _I've_ choreographed, no Phantom, or anything that's been done recently."
> 
> "Swan not recent. Done in 2005," Yuzuru points out.
> 
> David grimaces at the correction. "I am not doing anything iconic, which The Swan clearly is. Can you pick something, errr, not so famous?"
> 
> Yuzuru pouts and mulls over the music library. Javi checks his phone.
> 
> "We're gonna be here a while."


	14. Hogar lejos del hogar (Home away from home)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru's mule-like tenacity tests the patience and resolve of Brian and David, but most of all, Yuzuru himself. Javi finds talking to birds to be extremely therapeutic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eep.
> 
> What the hell did I write? I had everything outlined and plotted to the paragraph and then this happened.
> 
> Seriously. I still don't understand what I wrote. I blame Four Continents trauma, which compelled me to write some accidentally pretty prose and then I've lost the ability to write normally, having used up my emotional quota for the season.
> 
> Well, in any case, this chapter ended up being very different from how I originally envisioned it. Still figuring out if this is a good or bad thing. I'll let y'all be the judge.
> 
> I also have a tumblr now, so I am hip and cool. Feel free to join me at [fieryrondo.tumblr.com](http://fieryrondo.tumblr.com)
> 
> Enjoy?

To Javi, the days of summer in Toronto blur into a kaleidoscopic river of half-remembered days, vividly sharp moments full of languid sunshine against the backdrop of the ever thrumming pulse of _stroke_ practice, _spin_ practice, _jump_ practice, which threads all of these memories together like beads on a string. It’s a steady routine, pleasant in its predictability, reassuring in its stability, and as much as Javi loves competing, having time to cool off is honestly one of the best things in the world.

 

The summer Yuzuru came to Toronto, Javi finds himself marking the days of the summer, conscious of time’s passage for the first time. Somehow the continuous stream is no longer freely flowing, but truncated by activity bursts defined by Yuzuru’s clockwork like schedule. The one stream splits in two: the days when Yuzuru is in Toronto and the days when he is in Japan. And though Javi refuses to admit it aloud, the days without Yuzuru seem just a little duller, less interesting, though how exactly Javi can’t put his finger on it. Maybe it’s the sharp intensity of focus when the kid tosses out his triple axel--the only jump he’s recovered with his former consistency so far--like a hot shower that jolts Javi out of his pre-practice haze and makes him put down his cup of coffee, lace up his boots and hurry out onto the ice. Or the kid’s charming humility in his Japanese bows and apologetic half-smiles, and the mellifluous way the “Sorry, sorry”s roll off his tongue when all other English words failed him. Javi’s grown fond of the enigmatic Japanese teen, who somehow continues to both surprise him and affirm preexisting assumptions all at once.

 

Like an acrobat, the Sendai native balances the two worlds he now belongs to, tipping precariously to and fro between them like a novice juggler performing before an audience for the first time. Having traversed all over the world himself, it is easy for Javi to reminisce, to recall the colorful vagabond days during his years with Morozov, and although Yuzuru was fortunate to have a roof over his head every night and his mother by his side, the strain of the international travel borne by the Japanese teen is a companion Javi knows all too well.

 

Though Javi may have mistaken plain frustration for travel strain, judging from the ominously impatient way Yuzuru’s blades tap at the ice, pincer-like, as he watches Brian with hawkish intensity. Today’s Yuzuru’s first day back from Sendai and the kid’s already hungering for something more exciting than spin practice. Javi, fresh from his stroking session, takes a break to watch, a little curious to see how the session will go, especially since Brian would be showing Yuzuru the ropes rather than Tracy or one of the spinning specialists.

 

“I wonder how they handle the communication gap,” comments David Wilson. Canadian choreographer and the Cricket Club’s unofficial pointed toe fashionista (Javi reckons no one on the continent had a sharper, or more disdainful eye for unpointed toes than David), the Canadian former figure skater was a legend himself for his choreography, his talent sought by top skaters from virtually every pocket of the world. They observe as Brian instructs Yuzuru to try out a change foot sit-spin but Yuzuru does a doughnut spin instead, and follows it up with a Biellmann so round it makes Javi’s back hurt just by looking.

 

David’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow, he’s got insane flexibility—built like a bendy pool noodle, that one.”

 

Javi can see Brian’s brow knit in frustration as he tries to explain to Yuzuru what he wants him to try--with much use of arm flailing and punctuated bursts of “focus, watch me, like this, do it like _this_ ”. Yuzuru, ever attentive, watches keenly before he bobs his head more furiously as if he understands. Javi’s instinct (and years of struggling with English himself) tells him the kid’s not quite getting what Brian wants and sure enough, Yuzuru only twirls a few loops on the ice before rolling his neck to stretch and looks back at the Canadian coach expectantly.

 

“Oh, this should be good,” David opines when Brian abandons verbal communication altogether and resigns to an actual demonstration. Javi’s about to ask David what exactly he means when he receives his answer as Brian throws himself into a spin. Yuzuru and Javi watch in mutual fascination as they witness one of the most awkward sit spins they’ve seen in their entire lives while David hoots “Whooo, go Daddy go!” in teasing approval.

 

“Oh, come on, I’m fifty years old.” Javi doesn’t think he’s ever seen Brian quite so embarrassed.

 

“He’s better than you,” David ribs, slapping his thighs while laughing.

 

Yuzuru, who had been wordlessly pleasant, suddenly utters his first words for the day.

 

“I’m older.”

 

Javi snorts. David, on the other hand, is entirely unsuccessful in masking his mirth and just breaks down, dissolving into not-so-silent fits of giggles.

 

“ _You’re_ older?” Brian echoes while Yuzuru nods, this time more certainly even as Brian turns to David to wryly say, “He could be my grandson.”

 

“He could be your daddy,” David corrects, still chuckling as he gestures to Yuzuru. Perfectly polite and puzzled, Yuzuru only smiles back at him before turning back onto the ice to execute a fast, liquidly smooth change foot sit-spin. It’s textbook perfect and clean--gorgeous really--and Javi can see David cursing himself for not bringing his camera to film while Brian seems to have lost the ability to speak. Exiting the spin, Yuzuru looks back at them all, his lips half pursed in a sheepish grin.

 

“You can join Javi for jump practice tomorrow,” Brian recovers after collecting himself. “But we’ll go easy, start off slow. Like, _really_ slow. And careful. Skating skills still come first.”

 

Having already accomplished his objective, Yuzuru beams and glides off to have a word with his mother. Brian sighs.

 

“Okay, I’m not doing that again. No more sit spins for this old man.”

 

“At least we speak the same language of skating,” David offers, head tilted in that way Javi recognizes when the choreographer is feeling particularly inspired. “You say, he’s got a classical style? I’m not so sure on his jumps but he’s already starting to develop some nice refinements to his movements--lovely spins. Kind of reminds me of Yuna. Given it’s our first time working together, I’d rather try something he feels comfortable with, figure out what makes him tick. Nothing too ambitious, especially since you’ve mentioned he has stamina issues in the free. Who was his choreographer before?”

 

“His coach, Ms. Nanami Abe,” Brian replies. “But I believe she had some Russian guidance. What do you think? I know you and Javi have already discussed it about trying something new for his programs this season--Yuzuru seems to have a thing for dramatic programs. I think something subtle would be a nice challenge, really get him to focus on the overall skating instead of just the jumps.”

 

“The young guys always like the jumping,” David agrees. “You know that all too well, don’t you, Javi?”

 

Javi shrugs.

 

“Hey, I do more than just jumping now.”

 

“You do,” Brian agrees, much to Javi’s surprise. “It’s the reason why your jumps are more stable. You’ve come a long way with your skating skills. Hopefully, Yuzuru can learn from example.”

 

They look up just in time to see Yuzuru nail a triple salchow before tripping and falling on his butt. Another sigh from Brian. As usual, the Japanese skater’s timing is impeccable.

 

“At least, Javi, he’s learning how to fall like you,” David chortles. Brian is already halfway across the rink, fussing over his new skater like a mother hen.

 

“Isn’t he precious?” David coos and rubs his hands together in delight, his mind whirling with his usual maelstrom of program music ideas. “Just like a baby duckling.”

 

“David, you’re doing that creepy thing where you talk to yourself with that weird look on your face again,” Javi reminds him before heading out onto the ice to join them.

 

**

 

Much to Brian’s satisfaction, David’s teasing come to bite him back during his first session with Yuzuru. Yuzuru, Javi concludes with amusement, has the uncanny knack to drive the most mild-mannered people up the wall, and despite his zen-like serenity and years of working with high-strung figure skaters, David is no exception.

 

Javi's never seen David look quite so stressed, but Yuzuru was not exactly making things easy for the choreographer. They had spent over two hours pouring over the selections David had brought for them. Javi had already chosen. Yuzuru, despite having patiently listened to all of them, still has his heart set on the one program David won't do. He looks at David beseechingly.

 

David, unfortunately, was made of harder stuff than Brian.

 

"I don't really think you should do Phantom," David says to Yuzuru, who's nodding despite disagreeing. "It's kind of overdone, and by kind of, I really mean, _really_ overdone. Besides, Lori already did one for Patrick just two seasons ago, so it's not a good idea to repeat that. People will think you're copying."

 

Yuzuru juts out his chin in defiance. "Not copy. My skate is my skate. Skate different." A pause. "Skate better."

 

Javi laughs. David chuckles too, but is firm in his choice.

 

"I know this is our first time working together, so I just want to give you a little guidance. I'm not asking for much. You can pick anything you like. Except Phantom."

 

Yuzuru chews his lip. "Anything?"

 

David realizes the danger in his words and hastily adds, "Within reason" just as Yuzuru's eyes light up and he claps his hands.

 

"Oh! Can we do Johnny Weir? Please?"

 

David sighs.

 

"Wow, Brian really wasn't kidding when he said you were a Weir fanboy."

 

Yuzuru bobs his head up and down, perking up at the prospect of doing a program by one of his favorite skaters. "Fallen Angel? Ave Maria?"

 

David rubs his temples. "So putting aside the fact it's kind of bad taste to copy an Olympic season program, you do know that I actually choreographed Fallen Angel for Johnny, right? So that would be totally weird for me to do that program again."

 

Yuzuru puts a finger to his lips, deep in thought. "The Swan?"

 

The Canadian choreographer facepalms, much to Javi and Yuzuru's mutual fascination.

 

"Okay, when I say anything, I mean no Olympic programs, nothing I've choreographed, no Phantom, or anything that's been done recently."

 

"Swan not recent. Done in 2005," Yuzuru points out.

 

David grimaces at the correction. "I am not doing anything iconic, which The Swan clearly is. Can you pick something, errr, not so famous?"

 

Yuzuru pouts and mulls over the music library. Javi checks his phone.

 

"We could be here for a while."

 

Two more hours of frustrated gesticulation on David’s part and Yuzuru’s adamant “No’s” which degenerate into petulant “ _Yada’s_ ” toward the end--this is where Javi learns his first Japanese phrase, “don’t want to”-- the two finally compromise and settle on Cocciante’s _Notre Dame de Paris,_ which is hardly the subtle program David's envisioned. Yuzuru is satisfied to skating something by his beloved Weir and David is grateful that he’s dodged the Phantom warhorse bullet. Of course, David’s patience, now worn threadbare at this point, is further tested when Yuzuru requests two quads for his free, both the quad toe and the quad sal.

 

“But you haven’t started practicing it!” David bleats in dismay. “I’ll have to talk with Brian--”

 

Yuzuru shakes his head so fast, Javi fears the kid’s head would fly right off.

 

“Want quad sal.” More vigorous shaking before the puppy eyes of doom. “Please.”

 

David is quick to pick up Brian’s new sighing habit.

 

**

  
Those are the good practices, when Javi lands his quad salchows clean, relishing in that familiar rush of adrenaline, the sensation of being at the top of the world. He even grows used to the muffled sound of Yuzuru’s clapping after his best jumps, the kid’s dark eyes wide-eyed with wonder but hungry sharp at the same time. Javi doesn’t deny that he preens a little at the thought of this strange kid, this accomplished skater, appreciating his technique. He’s never been considered a top podium contender on the international stage, so that fact that a fellow competitor--this crazy kid with his amazing jumps--admires his skating is a new high for the Spanish skater. This nugget of knowledge pushes Javi to try just a bit harder, to put more than his usual effort into his jumps during practice, to be more mindful of the repetitive motions and committing good technical habits to muscle memory. Yuzuru flew ten thousand kilometers to learn the holy art of the quad salchow, the secret to Javi’s success, and a part of Javi, perhaps the vainest part, is eager to match that expectation.

 

Then there are the bad days, when none of the jumps feel right, when his new skates feel heavy and stiff to lift, when the frustration comes rolling off of Javi in waves so strong that Brian will take one look at Javi’s glower and immediately dismiss him from practice with the directive to “Take twenty and cool off. Don’t come back until you’ve got your head cleared.” And Javi will trudge off, slap on his skate guards and walk off until he could get out of his funk and step back onto the ice with a clear head.

 

If Javi is transparent as a polished, see-through window, Yuzuru is opaque frost, cloaked in a pane of enigma that is both seen through but scattered into millions of pieces, leaving striking impressions that never quite fit together to see a clear, complete picture. It is during the particularly bad practices that the teen withdraws even deeper into his shell, closing himself off to the point where Brian, a fountain of enduring patience, throws his hands up in the air and decides to go for a translator, only for Yuzuru brush the hair behind his ears and stubbornly shake his head before steeling himself to jump and fall again. Ears deaf to the protests of the coaches, Yuzuru finishes the day hunkered on a bench after having fallen on the ice twenty times, his narrow chest heaving up and down in gasps, puffing away on his inhaler. Brian’s not happy at all and has a long discussion with Tracy and David, and with the timely appearance of Shin Amano, they disappear into Brian’s office and have a long discussion. Yuzuru emerges from the office more subdued than ever and packs up his skates and gear. When he passes by Javi, he opens his mouth as if he wants to say something but can’t find the words. A long pause, then he visibly deflates and gives it up, mumbling a barely distinct “bye” before leaving without another word.

 

“What’s wrong with him?” Javi can’t help but ask when Brian emerges from his office, looking as if he had aged a decade.

 

“No ice training or jump practice for three days,” Brian says. “Shin says it may be his asthma acting up; he might not be used to the air here but he’ll have to check with Yuzuru’s doctor to be sure. I wish they’d be willing to see a doctor here; I’m sure we have Japanese doctors in Toronto.”

 

“You think it could be something else?”

 

“Maybe. There’s so many things I don’t know. I wish he could understand us, why we’re doing what we’re doing. If his English were a little better…” Brian clucks his tongue. “You can only go so far with hand movements…”

 

Javi trusts Brian but he can’t help but think that Brian’s going about all this the wrong way. It’s a niggling thought that plagues him all night and the next day when the rink is noticeably missing one Japanese skater and his Pooh.

 

**

 

They meet outside of the rink entirely by accident. Javi’s making an emergency run to the grocer’s to stock up on food, having devoured everything remotely edible (the week old gazpacho Javi decided to ditch, concluding that temporary relief from hunger wasn’t worth getting the runs) and is getting rung up at the register when the next customer drops a basket full of rice, white radish, and tofu on the counter next to Javi. Javi absentmindedly moves the bag of rice so it doesn’t fall out of the basket before looking up.

 

“Yuzuru?”

 

“Umm, hi.” Dressed in loose fitting, casual clothes, Yuzuru looks normal, almost gawky, more like the teenage boy he actually is. He fiddles with his bracelet and looks at anywhere _but_ Javi.

 

“You grocery shopping?”

 

More fidgeting. Yuzuru opens his mouth to speak before changing his mind and closing it again. He settles for a short nod and goes back to playing with his bracelet.

 

“What are you having for dinner?”

 

“ _Daikon_ \--” Again, Yuzuru catches himself and closes his mouth again, this time, looking more visibly stressed out.

 

And in that moment, Javi understands.

 

He waits for Yuzuru, watching as the Japanese teen meticulously counts out the Canadian bills and coins with a fierce concentration and finishes up his purchase.

 

“ _Doushite--?_ Why?” Yuzuru halts, looking confused as to why Javi was still here.

 

“Come with me--I want to show you something.”

 

Javi walks away. After a breath, he hears the pattering of feet behind him.

 

**

 

They spend the journey in a silence that is not exactly uncomfortable but tense with expectation. Javi can feel Yuzuru’s questioning gaze drilling into the back of his head but only gestures to inform Yuzuru that they’re getting off the High Park stop. Wordlessly, Yuzuru follows.

 

To Javi’s relief, Grenadier Pond is not as overly crowded as usual; there are a few fishermen out with their cast fishing lines, but his favorite sitting spot--a bench worn by wind and time overlooking the banks--is vacant. He plops down on the bench, setting down his bags and pats the seat next to him. Yuzuru slides down onto the bench, almost reluctantly.

 

They sit there for a while on the bench, watching a flock of ducks mob each other as they fight and play in the muddied waters. Just when the silence gets to be almost too much, Javi begins to speak, the familiar singsong warmth of his _lengua materna_ roll off his tongue with comforting ease.

 

“ _I was the same age as you are when I left Madrid to train with Morozov. When I first came to the States, my English was just as bad as yours. Probably even worse. And that’s saying something because Spanish and English are supposed to be similar. So I made a lot of mistakes--I still make a lot of mistakes. It’s part of the learning, you know? But though I got better at English, it was like I was losing something. Like by not speaking Spanish, I was leaving the part that was Javier Fernandez. I didn’t have my mother or my father or my sister with me. I couldn’t even afford a phone then and international calls were very expensive. I would drive myself crazy, talking in English all the time. It really drove me nuts."_

 

Javi hears Yuzuru make a noise of inquiry but continues to talk, this time loud enough for the ducks to hear and clamor, honking in response.

 

“ _So you know what a crazy person does? If he can’t find someone to talk to, he talks to anybody, anything. For me, a park is easy, birds are easy. You find a park, find a pond, find some ducks and just sit and talk. Just talk to them about anything, everything. How good your day was. How fucked up it went. How happy you are, how sad you are, how angry you are, how frustrated you are. How lonely you are. Everything you keep bottled up inside, you let it out in the open. There’s no one here to judge you, no one to misunderstand you, only the birds and the trees. The trees have no ears and don't give a damn and the birds can’t understand you anyway._ ”

 

It’s only when Javi pauses to clear his throat, he hears that the melodic tones of human voice do not end, but continue as Yuzuru begins to speak haltingly in Japanese, his voice deepening as the words spill out of his mouth with increasing speed and confidence. With the frenetic quickness of a hummingbird, Yuzuru’s quiet voice rises in volume, in energy, his face scrunched in an expression that’s halfway between longing and pain, until in the end, Yuzuru's almost shouting at the top of his lungs, filling the airspace with Japanese sounds, Japanese tones, Japanese words, a world that exists to be heard and understood by himself.

 

“Better?” Javi asks after Yuzuru pauses a long while. Yuzuru nods, his face flushed red, either from the shouting or the embarrassment of having made a fool of himself. Javi thinks it might be a little of both.

 

They don’t speak again until they’re back on the subway.

 

“You crazy.” The Japanese skater’s voice is hoarse from the shouting, but there’s a fondness that’s warming. “Crazy man, scream at bird.”

 

“Why not birds? They can’t talk back.”

 

Yuzuru looks thoughtful, more serious. “No, can’t talk. But listen. Bird understand.”

 

“Maybe not these ducks. As far as I know, they’re Canadian ducks. So only English and French. Japanese and Spanish--we’re safe.”

 

“Bird understand everything,” Yuzuru insists, but drops the subject when he figures the Spaniard is humoring him.

 

“Go talk to bird a lot?”

 

“Not so much anymore,” Javi confesses. “A lot more when I left home for the first time. Then I made friends. It’s nice to talk to real people, you know?”

 

“Hard,” Yuzuru mumbles. “English, I mix up word. Is shame.”

 

“Then you practice. Who cares if you mix up English and Japanese? That’s how you learn. You get better. Just like the jumps we do in practice. You don’t expect to jump quad sal without practice, right?”

 

Javi laughs when he sees Yuzuru’s cheeks puff into a pout, as if the skater is contemplating whether or not to voice his disagreement.

 

**

 

“ _Hola,_ Javi.”

 

Javi falls off the bench.

 

“Yuzuru!”

 

“I say it wrong?” Yuzuru leans in closer, almost nose to nose with Javi. “Like? Don’t like?”

 

“No--I mean yes, I mean, no and yes, oh great, now you got _me_ mixed up.” Javi’s spluttering like a buffoon but Yuzuru only smiles back, lips upturned in that familiar half-smile that suddenly seems more mischievous.

 

“Javi _ojii-san_ ; so tired, need morning coffee.” Javi doesn’t need to know Japanese to figure out what the teen's insinuating.

 

“What--are you calling me _old?_ Come back here--”

 

“Javi, Yuzuru, I want you to meet Nam, a new skater who’s going to be joining--”

 

Brian enters the locker room to find Javi pulling Yuzuru into a bear hug, having successfully caught the slippery Japanese skater. He chokes.

 

“What in the--”

 

Behind him, Nam Nguyen claps his hands together with glee.

 

“Hi, I’m Nam, your new rinkmate!” the junior Canadian skater chirrups. “I can already tell I’m going to love it here!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Chapter Preview: _Llámeme si quieres_ (Call me maybe)**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Yuzuru nods in that familiar way when he doesn't quite understand.
> 
> "Sorry, can you...say again?"
> 
> Javi clears his throat. "Well, Alex wanted me to ask you if you'd like to help out with his new video."
> 
> "Video?"
> 
> "Yeah, 'Call Me Maybe.'"
> 
> "Okay." Yuzuru pulls out his phone and waits, though Javi has no idea why.
> 
> "What are you doing?" Javi finally asks.
> 
> To his amazement, Yuzuru somehow looks even more confused.
> 
> "You tell me, you want me call you?" Yuzuru looks at his phone. "I need your number."
> 
> In the background, Alex Shibutani laughs like a dying camel.


	15. Llámame si quieres (Call me maybe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Nagoya, Javi quickly learns a lot of heavy lifting (in more than one way) is required as he prepares for his first ice show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...hi, it's been two months guys? But after Worlds and WTT, I feel as if I've aged five years. I'm a little rusty coming back to El cisne, but it's the off-season, so I'll cut myself some slack (just this time). Again, it's not quite how I originally planned it but my muse is as merciless as she is whimsical. I promise the next one (which hopefully you don't have to wait another two months for) will be a little more serious.

“Oh wow, man; just how much stuff did you pack? You could fit a hippo in that thing.”

 

Maia Shibutani arches an eyebrow.

 

“A hippo, Alex? Really?”

 

“I might have gone little overboard with packing.” Javi concedes.

 

“Dude, that’s like, beyond overboard. You packed three winter jackets for Japan. _Three._ In summer. You’re gonna fry.”

 

"Hey, winters in Japan are cold," Javi defends, suppressing an involuntary shudder.  _Especially in the countryside._

 

Alex pulls out a wool coat and tries it on, admiring his reflection in the mirror. “Hey, this is pretty cool.”

 

“Barely roommates for ten seconds and you’re already stealing other people’s clothes.” Maia gives her elder brother a withering look, which Alex cheerfully ignores as he paws through the rest of Javi’s suitcase. “Sorry, you drew the short end of the stick for room assignments.”

 

“It’s cool,” Javi reassures Maia, who ignores the muffled “Hey!” of protest from Alex. “Alex, you don’t snore, right?”

 

“Only during competition season,” Maia interjects before Alex could vehemently deny any undignified sleeping noises.

 

“Who else is joining our merry band of three?” Alex asks, sitting on top of the last unoccupied bed.

 

Javi tries to recall the room assignments. “Mervin, I think?”

 

Maia frowns. “You sure? Because I thought I saw him carrying his stuff down to the second floor.”

 

“That must be Narumi’s,” Alex says. “He’s helping her. Feels guilty, maybe.”

 

“Guilty?” Javi asks.

 

“Yeah, a few months ago she dislocated her shoulder while they were practicing a lift.” The American ice dancer looks grim. “She says she's fine now though. I don’t really know the details but it sounded pretty bad.”

 

Javi is thankful for not being a pairs skater. Risk of injury was the reality of their sport, but at least when Javi falls, he only hurts himself. The idea of injuring another skater, even by accident, is something he doesn't want to think about.

 

* * *

 

2006 Olympic bronze medalist, 2008 Worlds champion, and self-proclaimed number one Adele fan, Jeffrey Buttle sweeps in on the ice like an ice queen after their first group warm up session, imperiously fixing the assembled group of skaters with the practiced air of a grizzled veteran choreographer wise beyond his years.

 

“Pop quiz time--what's the most important thing about skating in an ice show?”

 

“Not falling?” Mervin Tran suggests.

 

Jeffrey gives the Canadian pair skater a look of disapproval so comically searing both Mirai Nagasu and Adelina Sotnikova dissolve into undignified fits of laughter.

 

“Projecting to the crowd?” Jeremy Abbott guesses.

 

“Bringing good energy,” Charlie White offers.

 

“Have fun,” a sleepy-eyed Takahiko Kozuka ventures.

 

“Looking fabulous,” says Meryl Davis, hands on her hips, her lips twitching into a foxy grin.

 

“All good things,” Jeffrey agrees. “But those apply to figure skating in general. Whether it’s singles, or pairs or dance, we all want to land the jumps and not fall, to bring good energy to the skating, project that to the crowd and have fun with the program. And of course, looking _fabulous_ while doing all that. But what makes _show_ skating different from competitive skating?”

 

A pause as they mull this over.

 

“Teamwork.”

 

Jeffrey Buttle smiles warmly at the young Japanese skater.

 

“Oh? And why’s that?”

 

“In competition, skate alone,” Yuzuru says, deliberating over each word. “In show, skate together.”

 

“Exactly,” Jeffrey beams. He whips out a sheaf of papers. “So the first thing we have to do is to review how to skate on the ice at the same time without killing each other. Now you might have had some experience doing this at galas but let me tell you, especially those of you new to ice shows, ice show choreo is a whole different beast altogether. Not to mention you singles skaters may have a tendency to hog the ice. Sharing is caring, after all. Now let’s pair you guys off--”

 

Charlie immediately slides toward Meryl. “No, Charlie, that's cheating. Let’s pair you off with someone you _don’t_ know for a change and we’ll start with a simple side by side stroking exercise…”

 

* * *

 

Much to Javi’s chagrin, Kanako Murakami, sidling up to him, gives him the once-over and snorts.

 

“What’s so funny?” Javi asks suspiciously. But he’s been spoiled by Yuzuru’s plodding English because the Japanese ladies singles skater only deigns his question with a burst of Japanese that leaves Javi feeling like he’s been snubbed. Without another word, Kanako reverses direction entirely and skates away, leaving Javi scrambling to catch up with her.

 

“Javi, you’re letting your partner get away,” Jeffrey chides as he twirls with Mao Asada.

 

Javi crosses his arms. “How come _you_ get a partner who actually knows you?”  _Or at least doesn't hate you,_ Javi privately thinks.

 

“Because _I’m_ the choreographer." Jeffrey bows to Mao, who bows back. "Not to mention I know everyone here, so trying to pair me with someone I _haven’t_ worked with is pointless.” He clasps hands with Mao and they spin around together in a neat and fast circle, their strokes perfectly synchronized before Jeffrey catches Mao and guides her into a side step dip. “Don’t be too jealous of my partner, Javi, especially when you have your own.”

 

“Kana-chan is wonderful skater,” Mao adds, with an ill-concealed grin. “Good partner for you.”

  
“Right…” Javi glances over on the other side of the ice watching Kanako cackle like a witch when Yuzuru’s blade catches a hole on the ice and he stumbles, taking his partner, Alena Leonova, down with him.

 

* * *

 

Jeffrey puts everyone through the paces with the group choreography, from the opening to the closing numbers. It is definitely a novel experience. Javi, having only been to a few galas himself, hasn't quite mastered the trick to skating with so many people on the ice at the same time. With so many skaters (and varying levels of English proficiency), following directions and keeping them all straight on top of trying to skate gracefully and quickly in sync to an eclectic array of music offerings was a worthy challenge in of itself for veterans and new skaters alike. Ice show skating is some of the hardest work Javi’s ever done, but it is also easily the most fun. Javi’s not a morning person at all, yet he finds himself waking up the dulcet sounds of his phone alarm and heavy snoring (true to his word, Alex did not snore; Mervin, unfortunately, did) eager for another day of show practice.

 

After Jeffrey and the rest of the choreography team deemed the cast sufficiently prepared, they break out into smaller groups for the ladies and the men. Jeffrey, much to every male skater’s amusement, is besides himself with excitement over their group number.

 

“Sometimes, the songs the organizers give us to work with, are frankly, pretty terrible,” Jeffrey announces as he passes around a bag and inviting each of the men to draw from it. Javi and Yuzuru exchange quizzical looks before Javi reaches into the bag and pulls out a pair of sunglasses.

 

“But this time, we lucked out,” Jeffrey continues, perching his own pair on top of his head. “Flo Rida's _Club Can't Handle Me._ A perfect cocktail of synthesizers and keyboard hyped up on steroids with a dash of party fun. Nothing says cool like a pair of shades.”

 

“How are we supposed to see with these?” Javi asks, trying on the sunglasses. Under the current lighting, it was fine but Javi imagines visibility would take a hit in the dark.

 

“‘See?’" Jeffrey repeats, as if the Spanish skater had grievously offended him. "Who needs eyes to skate? You skate with your body...you move without walking, you glide without taking a physical step. The feeling of the wind in your face, on your body, your arms and legs... hearing that ripping growl of an edge, flying while still touching the ground.” The Canadian choreographer trails off dramatically. A moment to let the words and collective mixture of awe and skepticism sink in before adding, “Not to mention the spotlight will be shining ridiculously bright on you guys.”

 

“Spin?” Takahito Mura inquires after watching Takahiko try on the sunglasses and practice a slow spin.

 

“Oh, you’ll have to take them off if you spin,” Jeffrey says. “I haven’t figured out how to keep them on without it looking tacky. But they should fit. One size fits all.”

 

Yuzuru tips his head down and the sunglasses tumble into his lap.

 

“One size fits all is a lie,” Alex observes.

  
Yuzuru scowls and readjusts the glasses. 

 

* * *

 

Javi grunts when he pitches forward after a misstep and a loss of balance during the spin. Kanako shrieks as she releases her arms around his neck and allows Javi’s butt to become reacquainted with the ice for the umpteenth time. He's tired and cranky and wants to kick himself for being the only guy who has yet to complete his partner skate program without falling on his ass. Javi tries to tell himself that pairs skating is new to him, but it grates on Javi's nerves that he can't even seem to match his steps to his partner's. Granted Kanako was much shorter than him, and thus took smaller steps, so Javi had to match her strokes accordingly, but the petite Japanese teen's stride was frustratingly erratic and difficult to follow. Only sheer pride holds Javi back from whining to Jeffrey for a partner change. He lies back down on the ice, eyes closed, letting the cold seep into his back and legs.

 

“You okay?”

 

Javi opens his eyes and looks up to see Yuzuru, standing over him, eyes full of concern.

 

“I’m okay,” he says and starts to get up, winces, and flops back down. “Give me a minute.”

 

Yuzuru helps Javi up. The warmth of his fingers is a welcome contrast to the chill of the rink. Javi realizes when Yuzuru lets go that the Japanese skater is not wearing gloves.

 

Instead, Yuzuru turns his attention to Kanako.

 

“Why make so hard?” Yuzuru asks her.

 

Kanako makes a face and sticks out her tongue.

 

Before Javi can blink, he’s caught in a crossfire of Japanese. Yuzuru speaks quietly, but there’s an edge in his voice that, if Javi were to be honest, scares him a little. Kanako, to her credit, shoulders the scolding from the Sendai skater with poise, biting her lip with in defiance as they volley back and forth. Javi doesn’t know what they’re talking about exactly but from the toss of Kanako’s head in his general direction, Javi has a pretty good idea.

 

Fed up, Kanako turns heel and leaves, head held high, her blades cutting into the ice in angry strokes. Javi catches a glimpse of tears when she passes by.

 

“Hey, I think you made her cry.”

 

Yuzuru swallows and looks away. “Is fake cry.” But the fury is gone now, leaving only the hollow shell of regret.

 

“Look, I don’t really know what’s going on--”

 

“She play. Play too much. Skate mean. Skate wrong.” Yuzuru clucks his tongue. “Make you fall on purpose.”

 

“Well, I don’t really think it’s her fault--maybe I just suck as a partner--what, say that again?”

 

Yuzuru waves a hand vaguely as he heads to the boards, his mind already drifting to other matters.

 

“I tell her.”

  
Javi has a bad feeling about this.

 

* * *

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Skate with you today,” Yuzuru replies, holding out his arms with unruffled calm.

 

Too confused for words, Javi accepts Yuzuru's offered hands. They mirror each other in a lazy circle before Yuzuru breaks the circle and they slowly glide together. It’s not unlike stroking practice in Toronto and the Spanish skater eases into a relaxed pace. “Where’s Kanako?”

 

“Sick. Stay in hotel.”

 

“Well, I hope she feels better.” Javi matches Yuzuru's steps as the skater slides into a spiral, fanning his arms out behind him for Javi to hold onto. They separate, looping around the rink and meet again. Yuzuru wraps his arms around Javi and Javi, bracing himself for the added weight, shifts his center of gravity to compensate, but is pleasantly surprised to find that the Japanese skater scarcely seems to weigh anything at all as he lifts Yuzuru to whirl together on the ice.

 

“You’re as light as a feather.” Javi grins, letting go of Yuzuru after finishing their spin. Yuzuru rolls his shoulders and shrugs, the corner of his lips upturned slightly in a self-deprecating smile. There’s the sound of scattered applause from Meryl and Charlie, sitting rinkside with the Shibutanis. Maia scolds Alex for missing out on the footage opportunity.

 

“That wasn’t half-bad,” Charlie praises. “You guys practice together?”

 

“We train at the Cricket Club,” Javi says.

 

“I thought so. It’s easy to tell from how you skate. How do you like Toronto so far, Yuzuru?”

 

Yuzuru shrugs.

 

“Is okay.”

 

“Any sightseeing? I’m sure there are lots of wonderful places to visit in Toronto.”

 

“…I just skate. Train hard.”

 

“Well, that’s no fun,” Meryl says. “Javi, you need to take him out more! I’m sure your skating club’s lovely but there’s more to life than skating.”

 

“Javi take me to park. See duck.” A smirk. “Javi crazy.”

 

They laugh.

 

Unbeknownst to them all, a solitary figure wrapped in a jacket and pink scarf slips out the door.

 

* * *

 

“ _Suikawari?_ ”

 

“Watermelon smashing,” Alex clarifies, as he mimes chopping something in half. “Like real life Fruit Ninja, only you get to eat the fruit after. We should do it sometime.”

  
“You guys do the weirdest things,” Javi says, looking amused. Just last night, they had gone out to karaoke, a quintessential Japan experience that involved cramming together in a small room, downing a couple of Asahis and bawling their lungs to whatever song they pleased. It helped that no one was terribly good at singing, except for Jeffrey, who had blown them all away with a soulful rendition of  _Rolling in the Deep._

 

"When in Japan, do like the Japanese do." Maia says, drawing a card from Alex's hand and triumphantly slaps down her last matching pair. "Yes--I win again. And that means you owe me some _okonomiyaki_  on our Osaka stop."

 

 _"_ Fine. Can you get my phone so I can put a reminder for myself? I think I left it in your room." Maia skips out of the room, humming cheerfully.

 

"Ugh, why do I always suck at this game?" Alex drops the rest of his hand onto the pile. "I'm tired of Old Maid, let's play a real game next time, like poker or something--hey, Mervin."

 

Mervin's reply was to flop down on his bed, still in his street clothes, and bury his face into his pillow.

 

"What's wrong?" Javi asks.

 

A groan. Alex looks up from his cards.

 

"Was it something you ate, man? Because I keep telling you that even though the fish here is super fresh, you should always check the expiration date--'

 

"I wish it was that." The Vietnamese-Canadian lifts his head, his face the picture of abject dejection. The image of a wounded puppy comes to Javi's mind.

 

"Then what's the matter?"

 

"Life."

 

"Ah, one of those things," Alex says, nodding sagely. "Wanna talk about it?"

 

"Not really. It feels like that's all Narumi and I've been talking about these days." Mervin drags himself into a slightly more dignified sitting position, his fingers abusing his pillow. "Fuck the system. Fuck the rules. Fuck everything."

 

Alex understands the source of the pair skater's distress almost immediately and puts away the cards.

 

"That sucks, man, I'm sorry."

 

"Don't be. It was stupid of me to get our hopes up. But after Worlds, it suddenly became, you know, more real. And she wants it--she's waited years for this. Five years to this day. Five fucking years."

 

As if sensing the confusion radiating off the Spanish skater, Alex elaborates, "Mervin's Canadian but skates with Narumi for Japan. But you need Japanese citizenship to compete in the Olympics. And you can't get that without giving up your Canadian one, can you?"

 

"If that were possible, at least I'd have a choice," Mervin says dully, hugging the pillow tightly across his chest. "Even if it's a hard one. I mean, Olympics are big but giving up your citizenship for a shot at the gold? I want it bad but I don't know if I can do that. But it doesn't matter anyway because apparently I'm not Japanese enough for Japan, so that's off the table." A curled fist released with a gusty sigh. "Ughh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be acting like this. Stupid stuff. Me being stupid." He closes his eyes. "You got any beer left?"

 

"No beer, but I know what might cheer you up. You want to help us film a music video?"

 

"Music video?"

 

"Yeah, we did a Friday cover with Adam in Utah a few weeks ago and that was fun. But we were kind of stuck in the middle of nowhere so there wasn't a whole lot to work with. We were thinking of doing a bigger project, something with more of a storyline."

 

Mervin casts aside his pillow and sits up straighter, leaning forward with sharp interest.

 

"Tell me more."

 

* * *

  

"Hmmm..."

 

"Oh dear." Charlie says under his breath. And he's not the only one. Jeremy Abbott was discreetly slapping himself awake. Takahito Mura looked as if he were ready to drop to the ice and fall asleep at any moment. His countryman, Takahiko Kozuka, had gone a step further and actually dozed off, all while still standing in his skates. Javi feels like sitting down and crying, preferably both. Jeffrey's musing "Hmmm" had become a familiar source of dread for the men, as they were typically accompanied by a spontaneous change in footwork that was somehow more difficult than the last. Even Alex was starting to look like he was seriously regretting having ever asked the Canadian skater for his expertise. One did not simply ask Jeffrey Buttle to choreograph a simple dance sequence.

 

"There's just  _something_ terribly wrong with the choreography," Jeffrey finally says.

 

"Again?" Mervin asks with a soft moan.

 

"I thought it was fine," Jeremy says with a strained smile.

 

"It just feels like, I don't know, like something's missing." Jeffrey drums his fingers on his clipboard in thought. "Maybe we should redo the whole thing."

 

Javi sees Alex sneak hand-sign to Maia, filming rinkside, a frantic signal accompanied by an expression of horror.

 

"Or maybe a certain  _someone'_ s missing?" Maia suggests, coming to their rescue.

 

Jeffrey glows, his entire face lighting up in an inspired ray of sunshine. 

 

"Wow, you are absolutely right," he gushes.

 

All eyes settle on Javi.

 

"Wait, why are you all looking at me?"

 

* * *

 

 

Javi finds Yuzuru backstage an hour later, vigorously practicing his spin for his new exhibition skate. The Japanese skater spins tight and fast, stripping off the silver jacket with ease.

 

"Yuzu, got a second? The team's working on a project that you might be interested in."

 

Yuzuru nods in that familiar way when he doesn't quite understand.

 

"Sorry, can you...say again?"

 

Javi clears his throat. "Well, Alex wanted me to ask you if you'd like to help out with his new video."

 

"Video?"

 

"Yeah, 'Call Me Maybe.'"

 

"Okay." Yuzuru pulls out his phone and waits, though Javi has no idea why.

 

"What are you doing?" Javi finally asks.

 

To his amazement, Yuzuru somehow looks even more confused.

 

"You tell me, you want me call you?" Yuzuru looks at his phone. "I need your number."

 

In the background, Alex Shibutani laughs like a dying camel. Maia elbows him hard.

 

"No, no, that's not what I meant-I don't want you to call me." Javi wants to slap himself in the face when he sees his training mate's face morph from mild interest to hurt. Javi digs out his phone. "No, shit, I mean, okay, let's start over. Here's my number--" Yuzuru dutifully inputs the number Javi gives him. "--okay, want to try texting me?" A buzz later.

 

**(＾▽＾)**

 

Javi stares. Cortney sometimes used emoticons if she was feeling particularly playful, but her emoticons were mostly smiley faces, which were universally understood. Javi doesn't know what the hell Yuzuru's text means--only that it's some kind of foreign emoticon speak--but Yuzuru looks so pleased with himself that Javi doesn't have the heart to ask.

 

"You need help?" Yuzuru pokes at him, peering at his text on Javi's phone with quiet satisfaction.

 

"How fast are you at learning choreography?" Javi asks. "Because we've been at it for hours and I think my legs are going to die in the next few minutes."

 

Yuzuru bares his teeth in a smile.

 

"Oh, I learn fast."

 

* * *

 

A sullen Kanako Murakami greets Javi at their next practice together.

 

"Heard you were sick."

 

A head jerk of acknowledgement.

 

"Guess we should get started." Javi says and punches in the song selection from his phone. The light jazzy notes accompanying Sara Gazarek's rich voice blare from the arena speakers. After a moment's hesitation, Kanako follows Javi to the center of the ice and takes his hands.

 

With the first stroke, Javi realizes the Japanese skater is up to her old tricks again, dragging her blades off tempo with the music, nearly four beats behind. Javi stumbles on an edge and instinctively tries to slow down to match Kanako's sluggish glide but after a moment of experiencing the jarring sensation of skating off beat, Javi gives up on following her entirely and picks up his pace to match the music, ignoring Kanako entirely. Kanako yelps in fury, unprepared for her spiral sequence entry when Javi finishes his step by her side. When they finish their spin, Javi flashes Kanako a bright smile.

 

"I think we're onto something. Want to try again?"

 

Kanako glowers.

 

The second time, Kanako moves so ridiculously slow that Javi outpaces her in two strokes. Paying her no mind, Javi completes his half of the program before pulling Kanako in to join for their last spin. They repeat this again. And again. After the seventh iteration of their absurd run-throughs, Kanako drops all pretense of cooperation and sits down hard on the ice.

 

"Why?" she shrills, speaking English for the first time. "Why you do this?"

 

"Because I know you can skate faster than that," Javi tells her. "I've seen you at Worlds."

 

Kanako gapes.

 

"And I'm not really sure why you don't seem to like me, but I hope we can at least work together to make this program work. At least for the people who paid money to watch us skate." Javi offers Kanako a hand. "You okay with that?"

 

Kanako looks at Javi for a long time.

 

"Okay."

 

They try the routine again. This time, they synchronize, first with the music, then with each other. Javi feels a whoop of joy when Kanako makes a fast, graceful turn, bits of ice spraying. They clasp hands, spin around, rock side by side with the beat. He joins her for their spiral before dipping down to let Kanako's hands interlock around his neck. Clutching her waist, they spin, Kanako's skates swiping the air in a glittering arc before Javi sets her gently down as the music ends.

 

"How was that?" Javi asks.

 

Kanako's breathing hard, her lips twist in a slight frown.

 

"Skate...not bad."

 

Javi grins.

 

"But not good," Kanako quickly adds. "Spin slow. Very bad. Bad partner." She punches his arm.

 

A muffled wheeze. They both turn to see Yuzuru by the boards, sporting a smug little grin, his hands twirling a pink scarf.

 

Kanako shrieks in mortification and chases after Yuzuru around the rink. Javi wonders what the hell just happened but shrugs it off and accepts things for how they are. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulls it out.

 

**_thank you_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**  
>   
> 
> Given how this ended up being an ice show chapter...without any actual ice show scenes, I wanted to leave you with a few links to showcase the culmination of some of our young skaters' efforts, mentioned above:
> 
> [1] The Shibutanis (also known as the "ShibSibs") are a brother-sister ice dance pair representing the United States of America. They are famous for their video-logging (and music video forays) on Youtube, which chronicle their skating adventures at competitions and ice shows. Their first music video was actually a cover of Rebecca Black's _Friday_ ft. American skater Adam Rippon. You can check out their "Call Me Maybe" music video (if you haven't already ^^) as well as more THE ICE 2012 behind the scene clips [ here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y06vF8Lu3-c) and [ here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SqPZybZ9G-8).
> 
> [2] Yuzuru performs _Hello, I Love You_ (Adam Freeland cover), choreographed by Kurt Browning, four-time World champion, as well as the first male figure skater to land the first ratified quadruple jump (quadruple toe-loop) in competition. It is...shall we say, a departure from his usual programs. Click [ here](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x135rbi_the-ice-2012-yuzuru-hanyu-%E7%BE%BD%E7%94%9F%E7%B5%90%E5%BC%A6_sport) to watch.
> 
> [3] Javi pairs up with Kanako Murakami in their partner skate _Down with Love_. Click [ here](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x26fnai_javier-fernandez-kanakomurakami-the-ice-2012_sport) to watch.
> 
> [4] For added amusement, you can also watch Alena Leonova's _Breathe_ performance ft. Yuzuru Hanyu[ here](http://rui-ren.tumblr.com/post/77146379567/jardinaquatique-alena-leonova-ft-yuzuru).  
>  ****  
>  _Next Chapter Preview: La metamorfosis de la mariposa (The butterfly's metamorphosis)_  
>   
> 
> Yuzuru's face was so pale, his exit so fast, he fled the room like an apparition. Javi's about to run after him when he spies a familiar black duffel lying underneath one of the benches.
> 
> "Hey, Yuzu, you forgot your bag..." He tugs at the bag, the zipper coming loose and a glove flies out. He picks up the glove and stuffs it back when he feels around and pulls out a fistful of white.
> 
> "What the--?"
> 
> Javi unzips the bag entirely and finds it stuffed near to the brim with white bird feathers.


	16. La metamorfosis de la mariposa (The butterfly's metamorphosis)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Javi gets the hang of ice shows, he realizes that as strange as Yuzuru is, his Japanese friends are even stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's SWAN TIME. But before that, more ICE SHOWS. And actual figure skating (*gasp*)

The night after their last show, Mao and Takahiko Kozuka return with a box full of handheld fireworks from the Don Quijote around the corner. A perfect end to an exhausting but thoroughly satisfying tour of Japan. As Javi reaches down to finger the patterned cotton of his summer yukata, he winces when his fingers brush his ribs, which are still sore from when Yuzuru had squeezed the life out of him after their quad battle during the finale.

 

Javi’s seen fireworks before, but he’s never played with any in the palm of his hand. After watching Takahito Mura expertly set one alight into a sparking ball of heat, Javi lights his, watching the end flare up in a little molten ball that travels along the length of the sparkler, only to wink out of existence.

 

“Upside down,” Yuzuru says, who had been watching him. He shows Javi the correct way to hold the firework, pointing it straight down at the ground before setting the end ablaze. Enchanted, they both watch the tiny ball of light bloom into a fiery flower that dances along the twisted tissue paper, blazing in and out in the wind’s breath before it fizzles into darkness when Javi drops the remains into the bucket. The Spanish skater shivers a little from the evening breeze.

 

“Cold?” Yuzuru lifts his arms as if to offer him his jacket, only then to realizing that he had left his jacket downstairs. Javi shakes his head.

 

“It’s over so fast.” he says, and surprisingly feels a little sad.

 

“Yes,” Yuzuru agrees. He shuffles forward to light another firework. 

 

Kanako Murakami watches the two thoughtfully from behind.

 

* * *

 

“Javier, do you have minute?”

 

Javi checks the time. “Sure? If it’s quick? I have a bus to catch.”

 

“I make it quick,” Takahiko reassures him as he pulls Javi aside. Bemused, Javi follows as Takahiko takes refuge in a corner just a ways from the bus stop. He withdraws a long and thin box from a shopping bag and hands it to Javi.

 

“From Kana-chan,” Takahiko clarifies. “She is sorry for giving you hard time.”

 

“Really?” Javi eyes the neatly wrapped box. “I'm glad we're okay now. She's a great skater. Sorry I wasn't the partner she wanted."

 

"She say you skate well," Takahiko corrects. "She understands now, why he left home to train."

 

"He?" Takahiko shoves the box into Javi's hands, practically forcing the Spanish skater to take it.

 

"...may I?"

 

“Go ahead.”

 

Javi lifts the lid to peer inside.

 

“What’s this--?”

 

“Keep it. You will know what to do when time is right.”

 

“Okay…?”

 

“Best of luck in competition.”

 

Perplexed, Javi watches the 2011 Worlds silver medalist leave without another word. The sound of bus honking startles the Spanish skater from his thoughts.

 

“Javi!” Alex yells from the bus. “Hurry up, or we’re gonna leave you behind!”

 

Javi rushes to grab his suitcase. He shoves the box and lid into one of his carry-ons as he boards the bus, murmuring thanks as Alex and Jeremy help him stow his things in the luggage compartment.

  
A gleaming shaft of wood pokes out from one of the bags. 

 

* * *

 

When they arrive at Barrie Molson Centre, the first noteworthy thing that happens is Nam tripping over a microphone wire and almost impaling himself with a hanging coat hanger in the changing room.

 

"Oh, fudge, my eye!" The Canadian junior skater yelps and with his eyes screwed shut, he turns around and runs smack into Javi.

 

"Whoa there." Javi catches hold of Nam. "Don't hurt yourself before we even step out on the ice."

 

"Why are there so many wires in here?" Nam demands, rubbing his eye.

 

Yuzuru rubs his head sheepishly.

 

"Sorry about camera." The Japanese skater looks like he wants to say something more but one of the crew members asks him a question and Yuzuru snaps his attention back to the cameraman, answering in Japanese and nodding as the staff busily set up their equipment to film in the corner.

 

"Oooh, do you think we'll make the Japanese news?" Nam hovers behind Javi while they watch, and looks eager in spite of himself.

 

"Don't get too excited, it's for Yuzu's documentary." Brian steps in, carrying a sheaf of programs in one hand. "They revised the skating order to fit in a few more last minute skaters so know who's ahead of you. I'll be sitting in the audience for most of it, but I'll check backstage every now and then. Make sure things are okay." A glance over at Yuzuru, currently barricaded by a wall of camera equipment. "Enjoy the gala, okay, guys? And for heaven's sake, please don't have any drinks before you skate, even if the catering staff offers it to you." A pointed look in Javi's direction before he ruffles Nam's hair. "Your first ice show, right? Have fun." Brian then hands out the programs.

 

The second noteworthy event of the night happens later when Elene stomps into the changing room, donned in floppy bow and tartan necktie, scarcely batting an eyelash at Javi's half unbuttoned shirt and drops a rose bouquet into his lap.

 

"Hey, lover boy. Someone's sent you flowers."

 

Javi's heart leaps a little as he recognizes Cortney's handwriting. Nam sniffs at the roses and wrinkles his nose.

 

"Flowers, how boring."

 

Elene waggles a finger at the young skater. "Nam, someday when you're a bit older, when you find your special someone, you're going to find flowers a lot more interesting."

 

Nam makes a face as if the Georgian skater had suggested he drink a vat of vinegar. 

 

"Ugh, no, girls are gross. Hey, wanna smell, Yuzu?"

 

Yuzuru gives a polite sniff before sneezing.

 

"Is nice." Yuzuru offers before handing back the bouquet to Javi and accepting a program from Elene.

 

"Yuzu, they spelled your name wrong," Javi says, looking amused.

 

"They did?" Elene glances over the program, eyes flicking back and forth until she finds the mistake and bursts into laughter. "Oh my god, they did. Looks like someone forgot to run the program through an editor before printing."

 

Yuzuru shrugs and returns to unpacking the rest of his travel bag. Nam wanders over to join him, and plays with his Pooh.

 

"I'm surprised they didn't mess up your name, Elene, since it's so long," Javi says, turning his attention back to the program after setting the bouquet down at his side. He remembers to text Cortney, to thank her for thinking of him and reminds himself to give her a call after the gala. 

 

"Oh, they'll butcher it somehow," Elene says cheerfully, straightening her tie. "If they don't do it in print, they'll definitely do it in the introduction--"

 

"Yuzu-kun?"

 

Yuzuru, who had been patiently listening to Nam chat about his program, jerks his head up in surprise and gasps.

 

To everyone's surprise, the reserved Japanese skater breaks out into a big grin and unhesitatingly accepts the newcomer's hug. A very huggy hug, Javi notices, and something in his stomach curdles. Once they break free, the newcomer turns around to flash a dazzlingly bright smile to everyone present.

 

"Hii~ my name is Nobunari Oda. Very nice to meet you!"

 

* * *

 

"I don't like his hair."

 

Elene rolls her eyes.

 

"Yes, Javi, you've mentioned that. Twice already."

 

"I did?" Javi shifts his weight on one leg to stretch. "Well, I don't like it."

 

"Of course you don't. Just like you don't like his face. His 'cheesy' smile. His 'stupid' eyebrows. Or the way he makes Yuzu laugh--" Peals of giggling from behind them as the elder Japanese skater shows his junior something amusing on his phone. "--basically, you don't like him at all."

 

"...when you say it like that, it sounds dumb."

 

A scoff. "Of course, it sounds dumb, because it  _is."_ One of the gala staff members beckons to Elene who nods and gets up to leave. "Try not to do anything stupid, okay?"

 

A little while later, Nobunari Oda, all dimpled cheeks and sunshine, flops on the bench next to Javi.

 

"Hello." 

 

"Hey." Javi pretends to be absolutely engrossed with his copy of the program.

 

"You must be Javi." As if this is their first time meeting. Javi wonders if the man remembers Hackensack. Moscow. Japan. Hopping from country to country, only the Japanese skater had pulled out as swift as the wind after his disastrous finish in Turin two seasons before. But Nikolai Morozov's cohort of skaters was as vast as the Iberian sea and they had said little to each other then. But Javi does not care to examine that time too closely--in some ways, the faded memory is still fresh in his mind.

 

"That's what my friends call me."

 

A flash of pearly whites. "Yes, Yuzu-kun tell me. He talk a lot about you."

 

"Does he?" Fingers tighten on the program, the paper wrinkling.

 

"Yes," Nobunari affirms with a slow grin. An ebb of silence. "You want to know?"

 

"Not really. Bet it's not anything good."

 

The grin on the Japanese skater's face falters for the first time.

 

"What? No, why you say that? He is not a man to talk bad about someone." A soft whuff of laughter. "How funny. Kana-chan tell me you are interesting man."

 

This _does_  catches Javi's interest but before Javi can demand what exactly Kanako thought of him--and what on earth was he supposed to do with an _arrow_ of all things--a gala staff member signals to Nobunari and the skater hops off the bench with a spring in his step.

 

* * *

 

As he watches the Japanese man dance on the ice, regaling the audience to the jazzy notes of Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York", Javi is forced to admit that Nobunari Oda was a very good skater with excellent flow and big jumps to match. And the easy way Nobunari plays with the crowd, completely comfortable and at ease skating in front of a foreign crowd far from home speaks of his experience. Javi is not yet there, not yet there to compete with the best of the best, but he's skilled enough to recognize good skating when he sees it. 

 

"You like?"

 

It is not in Javi's nature to lie, but he isn't too proud to admit that he is sorely tempted to try.

 

"He's all right. Jumps are good, maybe a bit slow."

 

"You think so? He skate a little like you." A slow smirk. "Very...big. Like big show. Showy."

 

Javi's not sure if he's supposed to feel pleased that the man's skating reminds Yuzuru of him or annoyed to be compared to him at all. He settles for something in between.

 

Nobunari Oda takes his bow, brow beaded with sweat and cheeks aglow. Warm applause ripples from the spectators sitting at the tables onto the ice as well as the ones farther up in the arena seating.

 

Yuzuru claps furiously.

 

* * *

 

 

Gliding back, Javi looks up just to in time see Nobunari tap Yuzuru on the shoulder and whisper something in the teen's ear. Yuzuru looks startled and giggles before clapping his mouth shut.

 

Javi puts a hand down on his quad toe loop.

 

* * *

 

 

"Please welcome, Yuzuru Hanya!"

 

An ill-concealed snicker. Javi sighs. Despite having had actively avoided him all evening, somehow Nobunari knew exactly where to find him. They lapse into a ceasefire silence as blues guitar rips the air. Javi's interested in watching despite having seen it in practice. The choreography was something that was not quite finished yet--much to Brian's despair, Yuzuru had taken to the added jumping practices like a duck to water and it took every bit of cajoling to wrangle Yuzuru back to skating skills with the same level of enthusiasm. But as Yuzuru leaps into the air for his opening quad, Javi hears Nobunari let out a whoop of excitement, followed by furious clapping, to see the quad toe landed beautifully. He sees the man suddenly fishing his pockets only to come up empty-handed.

 

"Sorry, do you have phone?"

 

"Yeah?" Caught off guard, Javi offers his phone to Nobunari, who immediately pulls open the camera app and begins filming right before Yuzuru pops his triple axel and rallies back with a cleanly landed triple lutz. As the audience rises to its feet in applause, Nobunari hums with satisfaction as he sends the video to his own number.

 

"I send to Mayu, to show Shin-chan." Nobunari explains after thanking Javi and returning his phone.

 

"Who's Mayu?"

 

"My true love~" Nobunari sings, shoving a wallet-sized wedding photo in Javi's face.

 

"You have a wife?" Somehow the idea of being married while simultaneously having a skating career doesn't even occur to Javi as remotely possible.

 

"Best wife in the world," Nobunari insists. "I show more picture but only have one in my wallet. I have more on my phone but I lose it..." He sighs. "She is very pretty. Like flower. Or butterfly in wind."

 

"Is she?" Javi says, relaxing a little.

 

Nobunari's head bobs up and down so fast Javi gets dizzy just from watching.

 

"Is shame I lose phone..."

 

Yuzuru, still dripping with sweat, walks by and slaps the mentioned missing phone into Nobunari's palm.

 

"Don't leave phone in jacket." Yuzuru says, grumpily sitting down in an empty seat between them.

 

"Ooohh," Nobunari squeals, standing up as if struck and speaking in Japanese as he holds out his phone. Yuzuru frowns a little more before shrugging.

 

"Take picture, Javi?" Yuzuru offers, eyeing Javi's phone.

 

"Why not?" Javi agrees and moves over to slide closer to Yuzuru only to pause when Nobunari leans in to join them.

 

"There's not enough room."

 

Nobunari claps his hands, having arrived at the perfect solution.

 

"Oh, Yuzu-kun can sit in my lap."

 

Yuzuru scowls.

 

"No."

 

Luckily, Javi spies a familiar floppy bow and calls out to Elene to take their picture.

 

* * *

 

 

The best part about coming home, Javi reflects, besides gorging himself on his mother's fantastic cooking that never failed to leave his stomach pining in Toronto, was spending time with Laura, who'd fill him in on the latest neighborly happenings over the last few months.

 

"I still can't believe you ate the whole plate of _jamón ibérico_ with your bare hands," Laura shakes her head. "Don't you have to watch your weight? You're in training."

 

"I can have a cheat day." Javi smiles, manfully carrying his half of the groceries as Laura unlocks the front door.

 

"Are those Mr. Orser's words or Javier Fernández López's?"

 

"What if I say both?"

 

"Then I'll call you a liar." 

 

"Oh, before I forget." Javi hands her a thick manila envelope, loosely secured.

 

The ripping of tape.

 

"Oh, Javi! You shouldn't have--"

 

"Keep it please. It's not very much because rent in Toronto is high but--"

 

Laura firmly shoves the envelope right back.

 

"I can't accept this."

 

"And I say you can. And you could use it, can't you? I saw the school application."

 

Laura hesitates.

 

"I'm still thinking about it."

 

"Then stop thinking. Go for it." Javi takes her hand and closes it around the envelope. "You gave up your dream to give me mine. Let me return the favor."

 

"Javi..." Laura looks a little misty-eyed, much to Javi's embarrassment. He busies himself with unwrapping the parcels when they hear screaming and wild thumping upstairs.

 

"Should I be worried?"

 

Laura rolls her eyes. "It's just Mr. Rodríguez. He's never been a friendly guy but it's gotten worse now that his birdbath's clogged with more feathers than usual."

 

"Why does he keep a birdbath if he hates messes?"

 

"Who knows? Some people just do irrational things."

 

* * *

 

It starts with a discussion regarding their program costumes for the upcoming season.

 

Discussion was perhaps an appropriate term for Javi's session. Sleek black with crimson red sleeves for Zorro (and very Spanish slicked hair) and a modified vest version of skating Charlie Chaplin for his free skate. It was a discussion that lasted exactly ten minutes and Brian, as usual, had approved the costumes with no hesitation.

 

Yuzuru, on the other hand, was a new challenge.

 

Brian believed in a hands-off approach, leaving the skater to make the decisions for themselves whenever possible. However, he had put his foot down when Yuzuru brought in something along the lines of "feathers, sparklies and ruffles"--Javi hadn't seen the costume for himself but from the frequency at which Brian massaged his temples, Javi guesses it was pretty outrageous.

 

"And I can't even do anything, other than tell him, 'I don't think that's a good idea'," Javi overhears Brian moaning to Tracy and David the other day. "He's got a  _contract_ that says I have no say."

 

"Serves you right for signing things without reading the fine print," David had said, with little sympathy. "I'd say costumes are the least of our worries. Have you seen the state of his runthroughs lately? I suggested watering down the content and he cried."

 

"He's been doing so well," Tracy had mused. "But his skating's really taken a nosedive in the last two weeks. Do you think he's ill? Maybe it's the asthma?"

 

None had been able to come up with a satisfying answer.

 

* * *

 

 

"Hey, you ok?"

 

"Not sick. Can skate." Yuzuru insists with the tenacity of an aged mule, despite popping every one of his jumps during his last run-through. He's breathing hard, and his training attire, usually fitted to his form, is rumpled and loose, like Yuzuru's lost weight. Despite having had only a light warm-up prior to the single run-through, Yuzuru already looks done for the day.

 

"Take ten and cool down." Brian instructs Yuzuru, already resigned to the fact that the Japanese skater was going to stick around for the rest of practice, even if it would kill him. "You're done with jumps and run-throughs for the day."

 

Yuzuru shakes his head.

 

"I try again."

 

Brian stands his ground. "No."

 

Yuzuru has that dangerous look in his eye--the one that they've all become accustomed to seeing when the Japanese skater goes head to head with a directive that he doesn't agree with, but will politely acquiesce until he thinks no one is looking. But the look of danger suddenly shifts to pain and to everyone's shock, the Japanese skater suddenly hugs himself, shivers and whimpers.

 

"Yuzu?" Tracy approached Yuzuru cautiously, like one would approach a spooked animal. 

 

"Sorry, I go now." Yuzuru tears off the ice so fast that in one blink, Javi sees the Japanese skater tap the ice before slapping on his skate guards and running straight for the locker room.

 

"What just happened?" Nam rubs his eyes.

 

Javi sees Yuzuru's mother heading off in the direction her son had taken.

 

"I'll go check on him."

 

* * *

 

 

Javi's efforts are in vain. Yuzuru's locked himself in the locker room, leaving Javi standing awkwardly outside in the hallway with Yuzuru's mother, who quietly calls out to her son in soft, but urgent Japanese.

 

"He'll be okay," Javi reassures her and only then realizes that he has no idea if Yuzuru's mother even understands English. But regardless, she smiles faintly, and seems to understand the Spanish skater's attempts to allay her concerns.

 

Just when Javi's about to run to the manager's office to get the keys, the door clicks open.

 

"Yuzu--" A blink later, Javi's watching the Japanese skater's retreating back disappear around the corner, followed by the careful footsteps of his mother.

 

Yuzuru's face was so pale, his exit so fast, he fled the room like an apparition. Javi's about to run after him when he spies a familiar black duffel lying underneath one of the benches.

 

"Hey, Yuzu, you forgot your bag..." He tugs at the bag, the zipper coming loose and a glove flies out. He picks up the glove and stuffs it back when he feels around and pulls out a fistful of white.

 

"What the--?"

 

Javi unzips the bag entirely and finds it stuffed near to the brim with white bird feathers. Of all sizes and shapes. Some long and broad, others small and fluffy like down. But all pristine white. As Javi digs deeper, the feathers feel oddly warm, as if they had been sitting in the sun or placed near a heater. He pulls out a roll of tape and a package of safety pins and what looks like glitter glue.

 

Feeling a little guilty for invading his training mate's private things, Javi surveys the feathers and the other items in the bag.

 

"Huh."

 

* * *

 

 

A week later, Yuzuru returns to the Cricket Club, still looking peaky but overall in better physical condition and spirits, much to everyone's immense relief. As Yuzuru warms up and lands a series of alternating triple axels and quad toes, Javi sidles up to him with duffel in tow.

 

"Feeling better now?"

 

"Yes. Not sick anymore." Yuzuru looks up, his eyes widening. "Is mine."

 

"Yeah, you left it behind last week. I held on to it to make sure it didn't get lost." Javi returns the bag, which Yuzuru hugs close to his chest, like his stuffed Pooh. 

 

"You open?" Yuzuru asks, examining the zipper, a look of fleeting panic on his face. "You look?"

 

"Only to close the zipper," Javi reassures him, giving Yuzuru a friendly pat on the shoulder.

 

Yuzuru doesn't look wholly convinced but doesn't have the opportunity to press the matter further when Nam tackles him with a hug.

 

"Yuzuuuu! We missed you! Where have you been? Practice is no fun without you."

 

"At home," the Japanese skater says with a chuckle. "Sleep a lot. Feel better now. I show something nice--want to see?"

 

Off-ice, Yuzuru unzips a garment bag and holds it out for Nam and Javi to see.

 

"Ooh, it's so cool! I love the black. Try it on, try it on!"

 

Javi can't help but smile.

 

"Looks like you didn't need the feathers after all."

 

Woven into the fabric of Yuzuru's new short program costume were the soft impressions of downy white feathers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes ******  
>   
> Re: Mariposa Skating Gala: The Mariposa School of Skating hosts an annual charity gala in Barrie, Ontario that raises funds for local charity projects, including the funding for lodging facilities for cancer patient families. The gala raises money by producing an ice show headlined usually by former Canadian champions as well as rising amateur skaters. Notable skaters who have performed in the gala include Jeffrey Buttle and Brian Orser, who were also students at the Mariposa School of Skating.
> 
>  
> 
> A few notes re: Mariposa performances.
> 
> [1] Javi skates to Bruno Mars' "The Lazy Song", his exhibition skate from the 2011-12 season. Javi does seem to have a habit of recycling and reviving old exhibition skates. No complete footage but you can see a five second cameo of Javi (and his hand-down on his quad toe) in the Spirit of the Athletes documentary.
> 
> [2] Elene Gedevanishvili skates to Britney Spears' "Baby, One More Time." Unfortunately no footage, but [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zl3vMSX7OtI&t) is a link to her exhibition skate at Skate Canada a few months later, in case you're curious.
> 
> [3] Nobunari Oda, after being waylaid for the second half of the 2011-12 season due to a serious left knee injury, skates to Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York." He trained under Nikolai Morozov from 2008-2010, so around the same time as Javi, though Javi stayed with Morozov a season longer before leaving. Nobu dumped Morozov after his disastrous performance at 2010 Worlds (note of caution: don't watch Nobu's SP unless you want your heart torn to pieces, it is one of the saddest performances ever and if you're not convinced, let me tell you his TES was 16(!!) so that should give you an idea how bad it was). Nobu is known for the quality of his jumps, his smooth flow and knee bend, and for performing too many combinations in competition orz. He also is happily married to his long time girlfriend, Mayu and at this point in time, has a young son named Shintaro.
> 
> I couldn't find the footage (though tumblr swears that it exists somewhere), but it's such a lovely performance, you can watch the Skate Canada version [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=czVf9CDNaJE) (as you tell, Nobu is quite the showman).
> 
> [4] Yuzuru skates to Gary Moore's "Parisienne Walkways" for his new short program, choreographed by Jeffrey Buttle. He had actually performed a version of it in a few ice shows in Japan but as far as I know, this was the first time he had performed it overseas. I did manage to find a fancam of Yuzuru's performance and there is a bit of footage of the gala in the first Spirit of the Athletes documentary. As you can see, the program is still in its raw stages at this point but you can see its potential! Click [here](http://magicaleggplant.tumblr.com/post/29343745170/crystalchandelure-yuzuru-hanyu-x-mariposa-gala) to watch  
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Next Chapter Preview: Dos cisnes en Finlandia (Two swans in Finland)_
> 
>  
> 
> They watch American skater Johnny Weir warm up on the ice, luxuriously stretching out his lanky limbs before rolling his hips, eliciting excited squeals and sighs from the spectators. Javi and Yuzuru exchange looks.
> 
> Javi shrugs. "Eh, I've seen better."


	17. Dos cisnes en Finlandia (Two swans in Finland)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Finland, Javi and Yuzuru learn to navigate their new roles as teammates and rivals at their first international competition together with Brian. With a hint from the original Swan himself, Javi also takes a few steps closer to unraveling Yuzuru's mysterious swan connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How has it been almost two months since the last chapter? Hope you all are enjoying the off-season so far. Real life has been extremely successful in keeping me busy (and will most likely continue to do so for the next few months), so I thank and ask for your continued patience. This project means a lot to me and I want to produce the best _El cisne_ for you to enjoy.
> 
> I'd also like to take a moment to thank my wonderfully brave beta reader for being kind enough to ride out the earlier drafts of this chapter and offer amazing feedback to help shape this into something remotely readable.
> 
> Please enjoy!

 

The first time Javi set foot on a plane alone was four years ago in 2008. Eighteen and fresh-faced, Javi had jumped at Morozov’s spur of the moment offer to train him after that fateful summer in Andorra. He had left everything he knew behind, bringing with him only two hastily packed duffels—an exasperated Enriqueta had had to remind him to take his skates with him—all for a chance to learn from the best. It was easily the most nerve-wracking flight he had ever been on. He had thrown up twice due to nerves (and possibly the airplane food) and spent the remaining hours fretting over his sparse English, practicing greetings and stock phrases with a determination that would have given his schoolteachers fits of shock.

 

Four years later, Javi’s got the international flight routine down pat, armed with his own neck pillow and slippers in white and blue—Real Madrid colors, of course—a blanket, and his comfy set of headphones to listen to his favorite tunes.

 

Javi prided himself on being an efficient packer, but Yuzuru, he quickly found, had him outclassed in this respect. Despite carrying roughly the same amount of luggage, Yuzuru had somehow packed three times as much. The first thing he does shortly after takeoff is to reach into his backpack and dump out what must have been half the aisle of an electronics store onto his airplane tray. Javi gapes.

 

“Are those all yours?”

 

“Yes.” Yuzuru says. He carefully selects a chrome copper set from the pile.

 

“Is there…a reason why you have so many?”

 

Yuzuru deliberates. “Like earphone. Like music. I buy. Is fun.” He pauses as he searches for the right words. “My hobby.”

 

The fact that his rink mate even has an interest outside of skating is somehow both mind-blowing and relieving at the same time.

 

“So you collect these?” Javi picks up a particularly hefty pair, the weight feeling good and heavy in his palms. “What’s this one?”

 

“MDR-CD900ST.”

 

A blank face.

 

“Sony,” Yuzuru adds. “For studio monitor.”

 

“Uh huh.” Javi says, not wholly convinced Yuzuru had just made up a string of letters and numbers. He points to another pair, slim and brass. “And what’s that one?”

 

Yuzuru brightens.

 

“Piano Forte VIII,” he gushes, his voice dropping down to a whisper. “Good for bass.” He offers the pair to Javi. “You want try?”

 

“Sure.” Javi’s about to stick them in his ears when he notices that the brass earpieces are engraved. “Whoa, are these _your_ initials?”

 

“Custom make.”

 

“How much do these things cost?”

 

“More than skate.” Yuzuru says with a hint of pride.

 

Javi drops the earphones.

 

* * *

 

They make it to Helsinki more or less intact, Yuzuru’s exorbitantly priced earphones included. From Helsinki, they all take a bus to Espoo, passing through city, lake, and wood. The forest, deep in _ruska_ , is beautiful, the pine, spruce, and birch carpeting the slopes in winter greens and autumnal reds, deep browns and rich yellows. Javi quietly snaps a few photos on his phone to send to Laura. Brian tries to liven things up by reading aloud from a travel pamphlet. Yuzuru and his mother sit together, hands clasped in meditative silence as they take in the view.

 

By the time they arrive at the hotel, they’re all pale and puffy-eyed, the jet-lag hitting them hard. They’re too tired for a proper dinner, so Brian orders some open-faced sandwiches from the cafe across the hotel which they munch on during a brief pre-competition meeting to go over their goals for tomorrow.

 

“Stay calm, enjoy the competition, don’t fall on my butt,” Javi concludes. Brian stays composed but a familiar crinkle around his eyes gives him away.

 

“Good goals,” Brian allows. “It’s early in the season. Best get those mistakes out of the way.” He turns expectantly to Yuzuru, who’s still meticulously nibbling at the edges of his smoked salmon. Yuzuru sets it down and listens intently as Brian repeats the question. His easygoing smile sharpens.

 

“Get gold.” Yuzuru says.

 

Brian’s eyebrows lift a little, but he doesn’t say anything else.

 

* * *

 

“Well, this is awkward.”

 

Yuzuru nods. Together, they stare at the fluffy mound of pillows sitting on top of the bed. Simple but comfortable. More than adequate for a good night’s sleep.

 

A pity there was only one bed.

 

“Do you think they’ve made a mistake? We should ask Brian.” Javi makes for the door but stops when Yuzuru tugs at his jacket.

 

“Is late,” Yuzuru points out before concealing a yawn. A blink later, Javi ends up yawning as well and sighs.

 

“You’re right.” Javi sets his things down on the carpet and shucks off his jacket. It’s a good thing he’s remembered to pack an extra blanket. He grabs a pillow off the comforter and plunks it by his suitcase.

 

“Hey, you can take the bed—” The words die in Javi’s throat when he sees Yuzuru’s already claimed the other corner of the room, unfurling his bedroll with startling efficiency. Sensing his gaze, Yuzuru looks up, chin jutting out, as if challenging him to move.

 

Javi closes his eyes.

 

“I’m fine on the floor.”

 

“Fine for Javi, fine for me.”

 

A long breath. Javi can feel himself fading, the hours of air travel catching up with him at last. He’s too tired to argue and only lays down on the carpet and closes his eyes.

 

“Just take the bed.” Javi pries open an eye to see Yuzuru tucked under a blanket in his corner, eyes screwed tightly shut. Even asleep, Yuzuru’s brow knits in fierce concentration.

 

Javi shakes his head and removes his boots.

 

He doesn’t even remember his head hitting the pillow.

 

* * *

 

Javi’s a little startled when he finds Pooh rubbing shoulders with his water bottle by the boards. There was plenty of room to spread out their things at the Cricket Club—indeed, Tracy had dubbed the little alcove right by the viewing window “Pooh’s little corner”—so it’s a little jarring to see Pooh sitting on top of his things. But in a rink of this size, with only Brian to look after their things, it makes sense to share the space, to put their things side by side.

It’s not a bad thing, Javi decides before reaching for his water bottle, taking care not to accidentally brush the plush off the boards. A moment later, he sees a second bottle, covered in velvety gray fabric studded with sparkles, flank Pooh’s other side. It takes Javi a second to realize that the cover matches Yuzuru’s shirt.

 

“Your mom make that?”

 

A slight nod. Yuzuru’s eyes soften as they slide to look over Javi’s head. Javi follows his line of sight and waves at the slight Japanese woman sitting in the stands. Surprised, Yuzuru’s mother gives a tiny nod and waves back.

 

“Your mom’s nice.”

 

Yuzuru cocks his head, looking at him in that searching way of his, as if he’s trying to see into Javi’s head.

 

“Yes,” Yuzuru agrees and then takes the ice.

 

Yuzuru’s off like a shot, already crossing over to the other side of the rink and warming up with his usual set of triple axels, easy as breathing. The mood in the rink changes when Yuzuru’s display draws the eye of every other skater in the first group. Behind him, Javi hears Brian sigh.

 

“I keep telling him to hold back.”

 

“I don’t think he knows what that means.” Javi grins when he sees Yuzuru, having gotten his warm up jumps out of the way, loops back towards them. He pushes off the boards as Yuzuru slows down to greet Brian, feeling the weight of Yuzuru’s gaze when they pass each other.

 

“My turn,” Javi mutters and jumps.

 

* * *

 

Javi didn’t watch Yuzuru’s short, but he can tell from the brewing, self-punishing stormcloud on his face that Yuzuru’s not particularly happy with how it went. Yuzuru’s gotten Pooh clamped tight under his arm, cheeks puffed out, a frown etched on his face. Brian sends him off with a pat on the shoulder, a word to cool down before he joins Javi rinkside.

 

“How’d it go?” Javi asks, genuinely curious.

 

Brian sighs.

 

“We both have work to do.” A pause. “And I forgot to bring his Pooh to the kiss and cry. I’ll remember next time.” Brian shakes his head in self-reproach.

 

They slip into their pre-skate routine, with Brian running through Javi’s checklist of things to pay close attention to during his program. Javi feels good, relaxed, and focused. He’s missed this—the rush of the first competition of the season. Brian claps him on the back as he removes his skate guards.

 

“Watch your speed for the combination jump,” Brian cautions. “Remember that the long side’s a bit shorter than usual. Yuzu almost hit the boards jumping his axel.”

 

Javi nods. They shake hands.

 

Javi drinks in the applause as he glides to the center of the ice. He clasps his hands behind his back and waits for the music. As the warm tenor of Spanish guitar echoes, Javi begins, looping around the rink, drawing the swordsman’s circle. This is no drunken pirate’s brawl, this is _arte de la espada ropera—_ the rapier was a gentleman’s weapon, one that relied on light and quick movement. He picks his toe pick on the ice for his opening quad jump.

 

Zorro descends.

 

* * *

 

Javi is so giddy with glee that he is leading the short that Brian’s words of caution (“There’s still the free tomorrow”) barely register in his head. Offhandedly, he jumps on Brian’s tentative suggestion to watch the other skaters. Brian looks surprised but pleased at Javi’s sudden initiative.

 

“We’re both done, so might as well. Maybe we’ll learn something.”

 

"Yuzu, do you want to-" Brian turns, only to find Yuzuru having set his eyes on American Richard Dornbush as if he were trying to burn the skater’s movements into his mind. "Do you have anyone you're looking forward to?" He revises.

 

“Johnny.”

 

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

By the time the Zamboni made its round on the ice, the post-skate adrenaline rush vanishes as quickly as it came. Javi suppresses a yawn and wonders what they’ll be having for dinner. He’s also pretty sure Yuzuru’s fallen asleep at this point. He’s about to nudge Yuzuru when his training mate suddenly opens his eyes, snapping into startling alertness with an excited gasp.

 

He’s not the only one. There’s a collective roar of applause when the second group takes the ice for their six minute warm up. Johnny Weir cuts an imposing vision of black and glitter—good God, were those _furs_ poking out of his shoulders. He easily eclipses the presence of the other skaters in the rink.

 

“Johnny Weir,” Yuzuru pipes up, as if the 2008 Worlds bronze medalist needed any introduction.

 

“We know,” Brian says, lips quirked in an amused smile.

 

They watch Johnny warm up on the ice, luxuriously stretching out his lanky limbs before rolling his hips, eliciting excited squeals and sighs from the spectators. Javi and Yuzuru exchange looks.

 

Javi shrugs. "Eh, I've seen better. Too bad you didn’t keep that program."

 

Yuzuru blushes, looking torn between pleasure from the compliment and the staunch desire to defend his skating idol.

 

“You really look up to him, don’t you?”

 

Yuzuru nods vigorously. “Compete with him. My dream.”

 

Johnny Weir has never been one of Javi’s favorite skaters. His aesthetics, in general, were bizarre to Javi. But Javi respects how confidently the American handles himself on the ice. The way the man flirts the boundaries of masculinity, oozing sensuality with every hand movement and hip twitch perfectly timed to the music; it’s a style that’s maverick, provocative even, yet undeniably all his own. To everyone’s surprise, the veteran skater’s making his comeback season right before the Olympics, and Javi’s curious to see what kind of skating the man will bring to his first competition in over two years.

 

The six minute warm-up ends and the skaters leave the ice. Yuzuru shifts impatiently in his seat. Javi tries to pay attention, curious to see if any other quads would be landed.

 

Misha Ge enthralls the crowd with a sizzling flamenco routine. It’s a lively performance, but Javi’s a little miffed at Yuzuru’s praise for the Uzbekistani skater (“Misha very Spanish”). He cheers up though when Yuzuru is also quick to reassure him that Javi was “Most very Spanish”.

 

After sharing winces when Russian skater Zhan Bush falls on his opening quad toe, they lapse into silence. Yuzuru hisses in sympathy when fellow countryman Kento Nakamura falls on his triple lutz and later exits his flying camel spin prematurely.

 

“You know him?”

 

Yuzuru nods. “Japan Junior Nationals, get silver.” Yuzuru then points to himself. “Get gold.”

 

“Of course.”

 

They watch the Japanese skater stumble to the kiss and cry.

 

“Were you guys friends?” Javi suddenly asks.

 

Yuzuru pauses, dark eyes narrowed in thought.

 

“No,” he says, voice growing soft. “But we share same ice as junior, many time before.” A shrug. “Long time before.”

 

Kento isn’t the only person who looks crestfallen over his low score. Beside Javi, Yuzuru sighs at the twenty point gap between Kento and himself; the Japanese skaters are unlikely to be sharing podium again here in Finland. Javi wills himself to find something, anything, to say that can dispel the lonely look on his training mate’s face.

 

“Johnny’s next,” Brian interrupts.

 

Yuzuru’s eyes light up. He practically bounces up and down on the balls of his feet, all gloom forgotten. As the heavily synthesized notes of Lady Gaga ( _of course_ ) fill the rink, Javi tips his head towards Brian in thanks. Brian smiles back at him.

 

* * *

 

Javi’s still not used to press conferences, having only sat on a few last season, but he finds that sharing the podium with Yuzuru is a rather pleasant thing. Yuzuru, with one glance at Javi and Richard, surprises them all by declining the help of a translator. So while Javi feels ready to fall asleep in his chair at any moment—Richard already looked well on the way there—he patiently waits as his training mate stumbles and stammers his way through a half memorized litany of English phrases with dogged persistence.

 

“Sometimes I don’t focus, because with Javi, with Javi—” Yuzuru eyes Javi, eyes twinkling with mirth before self-correcting. “With Javi _er_ , everything is in English. And I must learn English.”

 

Javi grins. They only end up getting through half the questions, but for a first attempt, it wasn’t half-bad. He tells Yuzuru this later after dinner. After waking up that morning with sore backs, they had both agreed it made no sense for them to refuse the bed when there was skating to be done. Fortunately, neither of them snored nor kicked.

 

“I practice. Work hard for tomorrow.” He eyes Javi keenly from under the covers. “Beat you.”

 

Javi laughs.

 

“Tell you what,” Javi says, feeling reckless. “Let’s make things interesting. You beat me tomorrow, you can ask me for one thing.”

 

Yuzuru’s eyes sparkle, as if Javi had suggested adding another quad to his program.

 

“Bet?”

 

“Something small,” Javi hastily adds, recalling last season. He shudders at the thought of having dodged the possibility of doing something more devious than writing a letter. “It’s not like this is Worlds.”

 

Yuzuru pouts. “No fun,” he says but looks excited nonetheless. “I make Javi—no, too silly, no good.”

 

“Oy, don’t act as if you’ve got this competition won already.”

 

Yuzuru smiles back.

 

“You don’t know? Finland lucky for swans.”

 

“Swans?” Javi repeats and wonders if he’s missed something. “Are you talking about your program? But you’re not doing a swan program this season.”

 

“Different program,” Yuzuru agrees, “different music. But skater is still skater. Skate, jump, fly. All the same.”

 

Javi thinks he understands.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, it’s so pretty.”

 

Pretty? Javi wonders, a touch sourly as Misha fawns over Yuzuru’s free skate costume (“Oh! We match—we’re both pink!”). Sheer mismatched sleeves, with one ending in some crazy white floofy cuff, a huge cross splashed across the front, pink and red layers of studded rhinestones, and Javi has to look away to avoid being blinded by the swirly sparkles—it was that overwhelming.

 

“Javi?”

 

Javi sneezes. He opens his eyes to find Pooh smiling gently at him.

 

“Thanks.” He grabs a tissue and blows his nose. Stupid cold, Javi grumbles, and curses the chill of Finnish clime. When he’s finished, he realizes that Yuzuru is still looking at him expectantly, waiting for a response. Javi flails internally.

 

“It...suits you” is what he settles on. Satisfied, Yuzuru nods and then inspects Javi’s free skate costume in return.

 

“More sparkles,” Yuzuru concludes.

 

Javi suppresses a shudder. “I don’t think rhinestones and Charlie Chaplin go together.”

 

Yuzuru side glances at Misha’s sparkling pink Chaplin costume.

 

“Um, that’s Misha’s thing. Wouldn’t want to steal his idea.”

 

Yuzuru frowns. Then as if struck by inspiration, he pulls a handkerchief from his jacket. Leaning over, Yuzuru stuffs it in Javi’s breast pocket before stepping back to admire his work.

 

“Is good.”

 

Javi looks at the handkerchief in the dressing room mirror. He decides he likes it.

 

* * *

 

By the time their six-minute warm up rolls around, Javi’s gone through half the tissues in his box, even taking some from Pooh by accident. Yuzuru doesn’t seem to notice what with Johnny sharing the ice with them. For every triple axel thrown, Yuzuru answers with another one, a bigger one, and one-ups the last skater by throwing in some triple axel, triple toe, double toe combos just for the heck of it, only to fall on a quad toe seconds later. Javi catches Brian facepalming by the boards. After a particularly bad fall at the end of the warm up, Yuzuru finally returns to the boards, flexing the hand that had hit the ice and emphatically reassuring a worried Brian that nothing had been broken.

 

Javi doesn’t expect perfect, or even good, but he still gets a little mad at himself when he pops all of his salchows in the free, mistakes that cost him the gold when Richard has the skate of his life and snatches away Javi’s lead. He sulkily watches Yuzuru taking center ice, his training mate looking ready to decide what color their medals will be.

 

Yuzuru had yet to skate his _Notre Dame de Paris_ program cleanly even in practice, a standing fact that has Brian up the wall and David practically on his knees begging Yuzuru to drop quad salchow to no avail. Knowing this, Javi tightens his grip on the boards as Yuzuru finishes all four rotations of the opening quad toe and begins to set up for his second jump. The jump that Yuzuru eyed covetously all summer, grinded through countless stroking drills for, here it comes:

 

With a wide sweep of his free leg, Yuzuru flies, fights, but ultimately lands his first ever quad salchow in competition.

 

Brian gasps and leaps up, clapping madly. Javi can hardly believe his eyes when Yuzuru continues to charge through the rest of the program, attacking each jump like a man with a vendetta. So much for a senior B competition, he thinks numbly. Yuzuru ekes out a final triple flip before throwing himself into his combination spin. The asthmatic skater is clearly running on fumes by this point; he staggers to his ending pose, but finishes right on the music with his arms raised high, chest heaving and eyes ablaze.

 

And then he immediately flops down on the ice.

 

Spell broken, only then does Javi notice Richard Dornbush right beside him.

 

“Shit.” Richard sounds every bit as astonished as Javi feels. “The kid’s a monster.”

 

They watch the stick figure of a skater rolls onto his back, gasping in the applause with blue lips.

 

“We train together,” Javi adds proudly.

 

* * *

 

“That’s it? That’s all you wanted?”

 

Yuzuru’s idea of cashing in on their bet is apparently a hug from Javi. Javi’s nonplussed that Yuzuru doesn’t want anything more but he happily obliges anyway, giving Yuzuru an extra good long one as congratulations. Yuzuru gasps and jerks away when Javi’s head slides down to his abdomen, raising Javi’s suspicions.

 

“Yuzu, are you...ticklish?”

 

Yuzuru shakes his head and busies himself by grabbing a pile of wrapped flowers from the couch.

 

“Help Brian,” Yuzuru insists and slips away from Javi.

 

An idea comes to Javi’s head.

 

* * *

 

Javi’s side will be sore from Yuzuru’s elbow jabs the next morning, but with his curiosity satisfied (Yuzuru was, to his delight, _very_ ticklish), he concludes the deed well worth the trouble. Yuzuru endears himself to the flower girls and boys when he distributes the flowers to them—one Finnish boy comes dangerously close to fainting on the spot when Yuzuru hands him a particularly large teddy bear. Yuzuru goes on to next conquer the frigid hearts of the surly ice repair crew when he joins them on the ice after the victory ceremony to patch up the toe pick holes.

 

The rush of joy when their eyes feast upon the rink ice is universal, but Yuzuru’s the first skater Javi’s seen treat the ice itself with such care, as if it were a living, breathing thing. It’s the way Yuzuru bows to the ice before treading lightly on it with his skates, the way he leans over, fingers caressing the ice like greeting an old friend, and the way those same fingers lovingly pat at the holes, mending the gaps with chips of ice, all the while humming under his breath. It’s quirky and sweet and honestly a little weird, but at the same time so very Yuzuru that Javi just accepts these mannerisms for what they are.

 

“The ice really loves him.”

 

Johnny Weir sidles up next to Javi, observing Yuzuru diligently tend to the ice. An error-ridden free skate had left Johnny off the podium. Though given the overwhelmingly warm response from the fans, one would hardly know. Despite the fact that they’ve competed together before, it’s the first time Johnny’s ever acknowledged the Spanish skater, and Javi feels a little taller knowing that he’s arrived at a point where he can stand with the skater on a more equal footing.

 

“Think you got it backwards. He likes the ice a lot.”

 

“And the ice likes him back,” Johnny pushes.

 

“Why’d you decide to come back?” It’s a question Johnny is undoubtedly tired of answering, but Javi does want to know. Two seasons was a long time to be away, and Javi, who has come dangerously close to quitting many times throughout his career, can only imagine the difficulty and grit it took to come back to competitive form. Long gone were the days one could win without a quad.

 

Johnny’s eyes crinkle in amusement and only nods, not at all surprised at the question.

 

“To prove that I could still do it. And really, to thank my fans, for keeping their faith in me.” A vague gesture at the stands. “Many of them have come a long way. Besides, Finland is lucky for swans. I thought I’d try my luck again. Just wasn’t my day.”

 

“Weird, you’re not the first guy who’s said that.”

 

“Oh?” A quirked, heavily lined eyebrow.

 

“Yuzu said something like that too.”

 

“Did he now?” Johnny’s lips twitch with mirth. “He would know, wouldn’t he? Don’t mind Yuzu. He’s...superstitious, I suppose. Swans are sacred in Finland, didn’t you know?”

 

Javi doesn’t. And he doesn’t know where Johnny is going with this.

 

“Well, it’s a crime to shoot one, for one thing,” Johnny continues. “They’re protected here. The people remember Lemminkäinen’s fate in Tuonela all too well.” Another chuckle. “You’re not following me at all, are you?”

 

“Uh, not really. I think you lost me at you being a swan.” Though Javi’s confidence in his English has grown due to everyday practice, the finer points of figurative speech like metaphor are still a work-in-progress. At least, that’s what he assumes this is the direction Johnny is going. Perhaps like Yuzuru, Johnny shared a deep fondness for his own swan program. Surely, the man was not referring to actual swans of the flapping, honking variety.

 

“Once,” Johnny corrects. “I flew once and what a flight that was. But those days are gone now.” A shadow of sadness flits across his face. “Age, life, the years all catch up to you. Best enjoy it while it lasts.”

 

Javi opens his mouth but is distracted when Yuzuru hurtles out of nowhere.

 

“Javiiii!” Yuzuru latches onto Javi, proudly shoving a bearded Pooh in his face. “Fix ice team give to me. Finnish Pooh!”

 

“That’s great, Yuzu.” Javi says and absently pats the plush. He turns back to look for Johnny, but the American skater is nowhere to be seen.

 

“He was just—”

 

“You look for someone?”

 

“Well, yeah, I was just talking to Johnny—”

 

“You talk to Johnny?” Yuzuru’s eyes narrow and he, too, starts looking around. “Where he go? What he say?”

 

If Javi’s honest, he doesn’t really know either. So he shrugs.

 

“Just passing by, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes ******  
>   
> [1] As most Yuzuru Hanyu fans may know, Yuzuru is a big audiophile and has a very extensive earphone collection. The two earphones referenced in this chapter are actual earphones:  
>   
>  \- Sony MDR-CD900ST, retail price at ~$200. Referenced by Yuzuru in his interview with Kenji Miyamoto, who gifts him another Sony headset (Sony MDR-10R). They are very popular in Japan, apparently.  
>   
> \- Final Audio Design Piano Forte VIII, earphones that claim to deliver a “concert-hall like audio experience”...whatever that means. They have a distinctive brass housing suited for any music heavy in bass. The regular ones have a base price of 80,000 yen, or just under 1000 US dollars, but as Yuzuru’s pair is custom-made to his specifications, they likely cost more.  
>   
> [2] _Some Finlandia programs mentioned/described in this chapter_
> 
> Yuzuru Hanyu  
> SP: ["Parisian Walkways" by Gary Moore](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfwxV6BiaoE)  
> FS: ["Notre Dame de Paris" by Riccardo Cocciante](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucbmZDKrYSw)  
>   
> Javier Fernández  
> SP: ["The Mask of Zorro" by James Horner](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-qc-AQmehAI&t)  
> FS: ["Charlie Chaplin" (medley)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpdEGOr7_Kk)  
>   
> Johnny Weir: American figure skater; "The Swan" is arguably his most iconic program. Johnny was a polarizing skater known for his artistic commitment to his programs and costumes. Finland was a special place for Johnny, as it was where he had won his first international medal as a senior as well as the last competition he completed. He would later withdraw after the short program at the 2012 Rostelecom Cup due to hip injury.  
> SP: ["Poker Face" by Lady Gaga](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ahs8GDyBqwU&t)  
> FS: ["Phoenix" by Escala and Edvin Marton](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIELts2lHsU)  
>   
> Misha Ge: Uzbekistani figure skater; known for his charmingly unorthodox programs; though never a medal contender for major international competitions, Misha is a crowd favorite among fans.  
> SP: ["Farrucas" by Pepe Romero/"Flamenco" by Thomas Espanner](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dkbShOwh-UE&t)  
> FS: ["Charlie Chaplin" (ft. Hip-Hop)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5vMgGtAjsOo&t)  
>   
> Kento Nakamura: Japanese figure skater; the 2010 Japanese Junior Nationals silver medalist and 2011 Japanese Junior Nationals champion; after a promising junior career, Kento had a rocky start as a senior that he unfortunately never recovered from.  
> SP: ["Vizir" (from "Gypsy Fashion")](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ffx-YkA4W_E&t)  
>   
> Richard Dornbush: American figure skater; the 2010 Junior Grand Prix Champion & 2011 US Nationals Silver Medalist; he skates the free skate of his career at the 2012 Finlandia Trophy, beating out both Yuzuru and Javi in TES in the free and wins silver.  
> FS: ["The Wild Ones" by Suede/"Harlem Nocturne" by Earle Hagen and Dick Rogers/" Rooftops" by Zara Larsson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0QbIOTN7EVQ&t)  
>   
> [3] Lemminkäinen and the Swan: Johnny references a famous scene from "The Kalevala", a Finnish epic poem, where the hero Lemminkäinen is given the impossible quest of slaying the Swan of Tuonela, a mystical swan from the land of the dead, with a single arrow. Swans are revered in Finland (in fact, the whooper swan is their national bird) and killing one is a big taboo, so naturally Lemminkäinen fails in this endeavor and is punished severely for breaking this rule.  
>   
> [4] To see what Finnish Pooh looks like, click [here](https://www.amazon.com/Disney-Winnie-Finland-Joulupukki-Plush/dp/B00470MHWI)  
>   
> [5] Canonical Yuzuvier moments:  
> \- [Leg pat scene during SP](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UUWquv8263o)  
> \- [Hug at the kiss and cry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vkPzFFakUXo)  
> \- [Podium scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KWDWe76bX3o&t)  
> \- [Press conference photos](http://magicaleggplant.tumblr.com/tagged/finlandia+trophy+2012/page/2)  
> \- For more Finlandia moments, refer to eggplant's Finlandia Trophy collection [here.](http://magicaleggplant.tumblr.com/tagged/finlandia+trophy+2012/)  
>   
>  **Next Chapter Preview: _En el que la historia viene llamando_ (In which history comes calling)**
> 
> Javi paces up and down the hallway. Warm up room’s no good. Break room’s out, too. Just when he’s about to seek refuge in the changing room, he notices the familiar glare of a camera lens poking just outside the door.
> 
> “Oh you’ve _got_ to be kidding me, they’ve got cameras here too?”
> 
> Brian shrugs. “It’s Japan.”


	18. En el que la historia viene llamando (In which history comes calling)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grand Prix season begins. Both Javi and Yuzuru make their mark on history, finding home on the ice in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my fearless beta for powering through the drafting process and putting up with my fretting in the middle of the night.

Javi is standing on top of the podium at Skate Canada.

 

Holy _shit_.

 

Javi can’t feel anything. Not the cheek-splitting smile on his face, not the broiling lights of the arena, not the kaleidoscope of camera flares that blind his world into a dizzying blur. All he can feel is the heaviness around his neck—the only thing solid and vivid ( _golden_ ) in his ecstatic haze.

 

‘Ten points,’ the medal sings to his chest, to the pounding heart beneath, ‘Ten points over the two-time world champion and home favorite Patrick Chan. _The_ Patrick Chan.’

 

His anthem _La Marcha Real_ too sings to him—‘the first Spanish skater ever to win a Grand Prix event’—of history and home.

 

Victory laps look very different from the front; to stare not at another skater’s back but straight ahead over the adoring crowd. And the applause! Rounds of applause from every direction. Cloaked around his shoulders is a Spanish flag a fan handed to him. The piece of his beloved _Espanya_ , along with a mental image of Laura fussing over their god awful TV recorder all the way back in Madrid, warms him from head to toe.

 

There is wind underneath his flag and wind beneath his wings, singing of history and home.

 

* * *

 

Gala practice is different too when you’re a victor. The ice seems whiter, your blades glide more smoothly and you have all of this extra energy buzzing for an outlet. Elene had graciously put up with his antics for half of practice before giving up and leaving Javi to infect some other hapless skater with his good cheer. Fortunately, Nobunari—or Nobu as he insists—is more than happy to oblige. Javi warms up to the Japanese skater considerably when Nobu mimics Zorro’s signature “Z” move. They bond over their shared Zorro programs and Nobu impresses Javi with his encyclopedic knowledge of movies. In the midst of gushing over Zwick’s _The Last Samurai_ and striking warrior poses, Javi finds out that Nobu’s got actual samurai blood running through his veins.

 

“So you’re a samurai?”

 

Nobu laughs. “No, but it would be fun to do samurai program. Share with everyone. Maybe show Shintaro when he’s older.” Before Javi can blink, Nobu’s shoved his phone in his face. “Had birthday this month. Already two years old!”

 

“Cute kid.” Javi offers. His eyes catch a display of a bow and arrows in the photo and he points.

 

“That your samurai stuff?”

 

Nobu follows Javi’s finger. “No, that’s Shintaro’s _hama yumi_.”

 

“ _Hama yumi_?”

 

“Um, it’s New Year gift for baby boys,” Nobu explains. “I already had the set so we just buy arrow from temple.”

 

“So is giving arrows to each other a Japanese thing?”

 

Nobu purses his lips.

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“Kanako gave me one. Looks a lot like the one in your picture.”

 

“She did?” A grin to rival sunshine. “She must like you.”

 

Javi has his doubt but decides not to voice it. Seeming to have already made up his mind, Nobu calls out to his teammate. Kanako, who’d been chatting with Akiko, looks surprised but glides to them without protest. After a brief exchange in Japanese, Kanako relaxes and Nobu pushes them to shake hands.

 

“Not that I’m ungrateful or anything; it’s a really cool gift. But why an arrow of all things?” Javi asks. Kanako chews her lip as she processes Javi’s question. Finally, she gives him a reply, which Nobu translates.

 

“Is good luck.” A wink. “Good for fighting demon.” Nobu pauses to listen to Kanako’s clarification. “She trust you will know when to use it.”

 

Javi wonders if it’s a Team Japan thing to be this cryptic, but Kanako looks so serious Javi doesn’t have the heart to ask what sort of metaphorical demons she’s expecting him to fight this season. Instead, he thanks her again and wishes her luck in the season.

 

“Let’s meet in Sochi.”

 

* * *

 

Towns and cities, huge industrial complexes broken by stretches of hilly countryside zip by as Javi and his team ride the Shinkansen to Sendai. Yuzuru’s taken the window seat, soundlessly mouthing lyrics under his breath. His dark eyes contemplate something beyond the blurry scenery. Javi peers at him every once in awhile, wondering what could be going through Yuzuru’s head. Despite sharing the same ice, Javi does not dare to presume the Yuzuru he sees in training, in competition, is all that there is to the skater. There were many sides to a person, and with Yuzuru, Javi's only begun to know them all.

 

Javi ponders whether to break the silence between them but sleep finds him before a decision does. He jolts awake when Yuzuru taps his shoulder.

 

“We’re here.”

 

Javi yawns out something that sounds vaguely like “Already?”

 

“Javi sleep too much,” Yuzuru teases. Unlike Javi, Yuzuru is inexplicably fresh-faced and wide awake. Javi curses the unfairness of it all.

 

Javi groans before hauling his butt out of the comfy seat to fetch his luggage from the overhead rack. He follows Yuzuru to catch a shuttle to their hotel. Brian’s already waiting for them by the bus, ready to help load their things. Excitement flutters in Javi’s stomach as the automatic doors close behind him. They’ve arrived.

 

* * *

 

Sendai. A city of trees bordered by mountain and sea. Twenty months after the earthquake, the city is thriving with activity once more, with dozens of shops clamoring for attention with grand opening or reopening announcements. Along the busy streets of Jozenjidori, newly planted rows of zelkova saplings flank their older cousins in flushes of red and gold. Javi presses his face against the glass to admire the rich autumnal foliage. The colors are pretty, and he tells Yuzuru so. To his amusement, Yuzuru puffs his chest out, nodding vigorously.

 

“More pretty in winter,” Yuzuru boasts. “Sendai put lights, many lights. Light tree like stars.”

 

“You’ll have to give me a tour of Sendai after competition, show me your favorite spots,” Javi suggests. Yuzuru’s eyes glimmer at the idea.

 

They pass by a residential area. The bright colors from the shopping district fade to a grittier gray as the bus drives past empty lots and yawning stretches of land. The road’s a little more rugged and there are sections of newly paved asphalt pockmarking the streets, a temporary fix that could not completely hide the deeper cracks that rip along the ground, echoes of a dark day not long past. Behind an apartment complex lies a mountain of debris yet to be swept away, a menagerie of broken auto parts, leveled house fragments and smashed furniture.

 

Yuzuru’s sudden silence speaks volumes.

 

Ten minutes later, the silver gleam of the Sekisui Heim Super Arena dome looms overhead. Flags of the countries represented flutter at the main entrance, stark against the somber landscape. Javi’s heart warms when he catches a glimpse of red and gold. Yuzuru too looks up at his own flag, hands clasped together as if in prayer.

 

Javi knows it’s going to be a hell of a fight.

 

* * *

 

Shortly after their hotel check in, Javi catches Yuzuru with a very pretty Japanese woman.

 

It’s not in Javi’s nature to pry, but he can’t help himself. Their conversation is quiet and easy, free of the halting pauses Javi has come to associate with Yuzuru’s English. He feels something inside of him clench, just a little, when the woman covers her mouth in muffled laughter; he wishes he could understand too.

 

Just when Javi’s about to double back, the woman meets his eye over Yuzuru’s shoulder. At a word, Yuzuru jerks his head back, eyes comically wide. To Javi’s bemusement, Yuzuru looks uncharacteristically nervous.

 

Javi moves first. He bows. The woman giggles.

 

* * *

 

Her name is Saya and Javi feels like an idiot.

 

It turns out that once upon a time, Javi’s rink mate also followed an elder sister out onto the ice, teeth chattering and arms shivering from the cold, but all the same drawn to the glittering expanse of ice rink.

 

“Home rink still there, show you some day,” Yuzuru says cheerfully and Javi thinks of his first rink back home—a small, derelict place now paved over into a restaurant. He hadn’t been particularly attached to that rink, but the memory of Laura bending over to tighten the laces on his skates is still sharp in his recollection, unblemished by the passage of time.

 

Yuzuru does most of the talking, bouncing back and forth between rapid Japanese and stuttering English. Sometimes Yuzuru forgets to switch and Javi is regaled with a burst of enthusiastic Japanese he can’t even begin to hope to understand, but he doesn’t need to; Yuzuru’s face, astonishingly transparent, tells all.

 

“Do you still skate?” Javi asks Saya, who looks startled to be addressed by him directly. She turns uncertainly to Yuzuru for a translation, before breaking into a smile so proud Javi already knows the answer.

 

When asked the same question, Laura always smiles the same way.

 

“My brother…” Yuzuru hesitates, closing in on himself as the words drop off his tongue. Javi can’t help but sympathize; he himself is no stranger to this guilt. “...he skate for me.”

 

Saya reaches over and ruffles Yuzuru’s hair, dispelling his gloom in an instant. Her eyes are fond as she speaks, her voice soft, soothing, and firm.

 

Such moments like these required no translation.

 

* * *

 

Javi paces up and down the hallway. Warm up room’s no good. Break room’s out, too. Just when he’s about to seek refuge in the changing room, he notices the familiar glare of a camera lens poking just outside the door.

 

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me, they’ve got cameras here too?”

 

Brian shrugs. “It’s Japan.”

 

Javi shakes his head and turns to Yuzuru for some commiseration, but stops when he sees that Yuzuru is clearly in his element: exchanging a polite word with a reporter, navigating through a mess of untangled wires on the floor and the forest of filming equipment with unruffled ease, all the while minding his Pooh. Javi mentally slaps his forehead at the realization.

 

_It’s Japan, he’s probably used to it._

 

And then Yuzuru drops his skate guards and goes on to yank at the laces of his boots so hard an aglet snaps.

 

 _Or maybe not_ , Javi winces.

 

“Do you need—?”

 

Yuzuru’s already dug into his bag and repairs the lace in a flash.

 

Javi doesn’t recall Yuzuru being this tense at Finlandia. Of course, Finlandia had little more than pride on the line, but even then the way Yuzuru is clutching Pooh seems excessively rough on the plush.

 

 _The things home crowd—home_ home _crowd—do to a man._

 

They head down to practice together. As they enter the arena, Javi notes the lovingly crafted banners of all shapes and sizes lining the walls. Unsurprisingly, most of the banners ecstatically declared their support for the Japanese ace. Javi slows down to study a particularly elaborate tapestry made by a devoted Takahashi fan. The attention to detail of Japanese fans never ceases to amaze him.

 

As his gaze surveys towards the far end of the stadium, Javi grins when he sees a few Spanish banners as well as an impressive wall of glitter and wings and gold for Yuzuru.

 

“Someone’s pretty popular,” Javi teases, prodding the Sendai native. The reaction, however, is only half of what he’s looking for; the sweetness of Yuzuru’s smile is mingled with something so heavy no amount of light hearted encouragement could lift.

 

* * *

 

Daisuke Takahashi lands a warm up triple toe and an army of cameras deafens every skater on ice with its shutters. Suppressing a groan, Javi retreats to the boards, watching with detached interest as the symphony of camera soars every time Daisuke so much as breathes. Javi sees Yuzuru launching into his usual impressive array of jumps on the other end of the rink. They’ve mostly figured out the rink sharing by now. Keeping an eye out for Yuzuru was quickly becoming second nature, as was dividing up their time with Brian.

 

It’s when Daisuke decides to work on his step sequence that Javi realizes—with air suddenly deserting his lungs—the coach Daisuke is consulting with is none other than Morozov. The Russian draws wild arcane shapes in the air as he gives the reigning NHK Trophy champion pointers. After their rather public split several years ago, it’s surprising to see the two back together.

 

But then again, Morozov has always had time for his favorites. Javi watches a rather lost looking Sergei hanging back, sneaking hopeful glances at his coach, and feels the phantom pain of a wound so old it has no right to hurt this much.

 

Suddenly, Morozov’s piercing gaze slides over to meet Javi’s. He smirks. Javi flinches so badly he slops water on himself.

 

“You okay?” Brian asks, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” Javi sets his bottle down with a thunk.

 

Javi throws himself into the rest of practice, running through his jumps and spins with renewed conviction. His quad salchow has never looked better.

 

* * *

 

It’s a bit odd to sit in the kiss and cry without Brian but Javi is too excited to mind. Heart still pumping from a nearly clean short, Javi waves to the crowd, who enthusiastically answers back. Bless Japan for their skating fans. Brian will probably nag him about his spins again but it’s hard to care when Javi vaults into the lead, beating out Ross Miner by over ten points. Javi lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding and finally relaxes to watch his friend’s skate.

 

It’s not the first time Javi’s seen Yuzuru’s short. He’s certainly watched the record breaking short at Skate America. Yet there was something in the air today. Maybe it was in the way the audience hushed into silence or the way Yuzuru’s eyes narrowed into that state of steely focus as he glided to the center of the rink. A collective breath, an auspicious spark hinting that today would be special somehow.

 

The music starts. Yuzuru rolls one shoulder and then the other. A languid glide as he lifts his head. In a blink of an eye, he strikes his toe pick and snaps into four revolutions with impossible ease.

 

Criminally casual, Yuzuru nails his other jumps—triple axel and triple lutz-triple toe combination, all feather soft landings in time to Gary Moore’s bluesy guitar riffs. A smirk as he dashes into a side lunge that brings the crowd to a roar. Yuzuru dances on the ice, suave and passionate, his arms and hands sweeping about like a rockstar in ecstasy. Spectators shoot to their feet, hands clapping along with the music, even before he finishes his final spins.

 

Yuzuru ends with a punch skyward. Applause rocks the arena like an ocean wave.

 

95.32. A world record. Yuzuru had taken the lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes ******  
>   
> [1] Javier Fernández wins gold at Skate Canada in an upset victory over reigning World Champion Patrick Chan, making history as the first Spanish skater to win a Grand Prix event. Home favorite Patrick Chan takes silver and Nobunari Oda takes bronze.
> 
> SP: ["The Mask of Zorro" by James Horner](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmOvEhqBoDo)  
> FS: ["Charlie Chaplin" (medley)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XHsYT6oegP8)  
> SP (NHK): ["The Mask of Zorro" by James Horner](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uj69HQ8QrNY)
> 
> [2] Yuzuru Hanyu makes history of his own, breaking world records twice with his short program, first at Skate America and then again at NHK Trophy, hosted in Sendai, his hometown. He wins the short program by a landslide, with Daisuke Takahashi and Javier Fernández rounding out the top three.
> 
> SP: ["Parisian Walkways" by Gary Moore](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGb7gXGlSY0&t%20)
> 
>  
> 
> **Next Chapter Preview: _También podemos volvernos flores_ (We can become flowers too)**
> 
> They walk for a long time, treading lightly on the wet sand, the waves lapping at their heels. Javi notices Yuzuru never lets the incoming tide touch him.
> 
> “We can move further,” Javi offers, watching Yuzuru dodge a rapid rush of seawater. “So we don’t get wet.”
> 
> “This is okay,” Yuzuru insists and shifts the shopping bag slung on his shoulder. They navigate around a set of partially unearthed tires, a broken cabinet, the remnants of a child’s kite. Bunches of planted flowers pepper the sand like seafoam. A thousand questions spring forth in Javi’s mind but none make it past his lips.


	19. También podemos volvernos flores (We can become flowers too)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NHK Trophy draws to an end. In front of his hometown crowd, Yuzuru pours his heart into his skate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you smell the Olympic season air?
> 
> If you're familiar with my writing habits, El cisne's updating schedule will be impacted once comp season is in full swing, which works out as everyone will be too busy cheering their favorite figure skaters on as they prepare for one of the most important seasons of their careers. Fingers crossed for Yuzu and Javi to make a splash with their programs at Autumn Classic this week!
> 
> Thank you to my beta for working with me on this. This one ended being quite a doozy to draft.
> 
> Please enjoy!

"Trust your training."

 

Brian squeezes Javi's hands on the boards yet his eyes are fixed at Yuzuru on the other side of the rink. Javi numbly mirrors Brian’s smile as he stomps down the resurfacing memories of his days with Morozov. It’s different, Javi reassures himself, he really can't blame Brian this time.

 

Earlier today at 5:30 am, a series of tremors was felt all across Sendai.

 

Each tremor had only lasted seconds, nowhere near strong enough to cause structural damage, but Javi still remembers. He remembers waking up to his bed lurching, the sound of his suitcase contents rolling about. He had held his breath then, hands gripping the bedsheets until his knuckles became bloodless. Heart pounding in his throat, he had waited for… something, anything—an emergency alarm, or evacuation instructions maybe, some acknowledgment that it was real. The morning remained silent in the end, silence that stretched all the way to his breakfast with the rest of his team. The dining room buzzed with activity. But it was Yuzuru’s face, seemingly aged a lifetime overnight, that killed every attempt at conversation in Javi’s throat.

 

Unsurprisingly, morning practice has been terrible. Javi pops jump after jump, his brain so scattered that he can’t get the timing right to save his life. Brian has to pull him aside to remind him that practice was practice. “One bad run-through doesn’t discount your progress,” his coach soothes.

 

 _So much for three quads_ , Javi muses, as he doubled his salchow again. What was the point of having the most technically difficult layout if he couldn’t even land the jumps? He glances over to the other side of the rink where Yuzuru stumbles on a triple lutz under Brian’s watchful eye. Brian calls him over for a pep talk. Yuzuru nods emphatically before shooting off and throwing himself into a flurry of quad salchows more furious than before. Their coach squeezes his eyes shut, fingers rubbing his temples.

 

Javi winces when even Yuzuru’s best jump betrays him. Javi hasn’t quite seen a splat like that since the early days when Yuzuru first arrived at the Cricket Club. The Japanese skater gets up and loops around the rink without bothering to brush off ice from his Under Armour. Dark eyes gaze up at the banners displayed along the seat railings, where his own name shouts back at him in a rainbow of colors and glitters.

 

Practice ends, and they both leave the rink with no clean jumps and only a few more bruises to show for their efforts.

 

During lunch, Javi finds Yuzuru sitting by himself, tucked away in a corner near the back of the breakroom. Yuzuru’s pouring himself over his jump notebook. Pooh sits reliably close by, its head looking thoroughly caressed. Javi feels pity for a stuffed toy.

 

“Can I sit?”

 

Yuzuru snaps out of his focus. He nods, pulling Pooh aside to make room. They then proceed to sit in silence, Yuzuru reading and Javi eating.

 

Well, trying to eat anyway. Javi fumbles with the plastic wrapper of the riceball. He’s seen Alex easily open them before but with the actual package in his own hands, he doesn’t know quite what to do. He picks at the plastic, trying to find a perforated line or an edge to tear. It rips and the seaweed paper crumbles in his hand.

 

Javi hears a snort. Yuzuru’s covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking.

 

“I like it like that.” And Javi bites down, chewing on rice and plastic. A few rice grains dribble down his chin.

 

Yuzuru slides over, grabs a wrapped rice ball and shows Javi the tiny labeled tab at the top. “Start with one,” he says. Holding onto the tab with his thumb and finger, he pulls down, sharply bisecting the wrapper down the center. He pulls the other tabs, marked 2 and 3 respectively, gently parting the plastic separating the seaweed from the rice. Following Yuzuru’s lead, Javi salvages the rest of his meal.

 

They munch in companionable silence. The rice is a little hard and dry. Javi has mixed feelings about the green flecks of seaweed embedded in the rice other than they added much needed salt to an otherwise unremarkable meal. He inhales his portion and turns to complain to Yuzuru.

 

“You know, these things are really small—”

 

Javi stops. Yuzuru has never been one with a large appetite, but not only had the Sendai native wolfed down his meal, he’s savoring the wakame flecks stuck on the plastic wrap. A thousand emotions pass through his eyes, only one of which lingers long enough for Javi to recognize—guilt.

 

* * *

 

A morose Charlie Chaplin greeted the crowd today. Any podium chances disappeared after Javi had fallen twice during his free skate, including on his strongest jump, a triple salchow. An embarrassing mistake that hurt his pride more than anything else.

 

“At least you didn’t get negative GOE on your spins,” Brian offers lightheartedly. Even through his gloom, Javi has to chuckle at the remark and they share a private laugh as they both recall Yuzuru’s free. What a way to close out the winning skate. Javi would not look at sit spins for the rest of the season without laughing.

 

Yuzuru, clueless to their amusement, zooms past where they sit in midst of his victory lap. A glass trophy in one arm, a bouquet of crimson flowers in the other, the home favorite turned home champion is smiling from ear to ear. He notices them and waves the bouquet with such enthusiasm the bouquet’s decorative feather threatens to fall off. The ache in Javi’s chest eases a little, replaced by rekindled determination.

 

“Next time,” Javi avows.

 

Brian chuckles. “That’s the spirit.”

 

* * *

 

The last shuttle for the hotel is leaving in five minutes and Yuzuru’s nowhere to be found. Javi volunteers to rescue Yuzuru from what was presumably a mob of media desperate to interview the new NHK champion. He runs into Akiko and Daisuke along the way.

 

“You know where Yuzuru might be? The bus is leaving.”

 

“He already left,” Daisuke says right when Akiko says “Mao-chan.”

 

Javi raises an eyebrow.

 

“So which is it?”

 

“He, erm, leave with Mao.” Daisuke side-glanced at Akiko, who immediately nods. “They take first bus.”

 

“Oh, okay, thanks.” Javi finds it strange that Yuzuru would leave without letting Brian know first but lets it slide. He texts Brian an update and heads back outside.

 

On his way out, he sees someone struggling with a large cardboard box by the entrance. As they pass, Javi sees who they are.

 

“I thought you left already.”

 

Mao shrieks and drops the box, dislodging one of the top flaps and showering Javi with feathers. Javi immediately bends down to help gather the stray feathers.

 

“Thank you,” Mao repacks her box, which Javi notes is packed to the brim. Mao follows his gaze and hastily secures the flaps.

 

“Those...are from the medal ceremony?”

 

A pause. “Yes.”

 

“That looks heavy. You sure you don’t want help?”

 

“I’m fine,” Mao insists, managing an impressive bow with the load in her arms. With an apology, she excuses herself and bids Javi good night.

 

* * *

 

The relaxed energy of the gala is infectious and even Javi finds it in himself to enjoy the show. He flubs every one of his jumps but doesn’t let that stop him from entertaining the audience; his cantilever elicits a collective gasp and cheer. Having done his part, Javi slips to the boards to join the rest of the skaters in watching the medalists’ performances. Tango, lyrical dance, even Mary Poppins—they are all commanding performances.

 

When it is Yuzuru’s turn to perform the closing individual skate, Javi expects the cocky swagger and badly drawn lipstick heart of Skate America. The person who take center ice, however, is not one Javi has the pleasure to officially meet. Javi had glimpsed _this_ Yuzuru before, in the reflection of their hotel shuttle’s window when Yuzuru thought Javi wasn’t watching, on the ride where they passed by Sendai’s debris and wave washed land. Dressed in pastel kimono and cherry blossoms, the Yuzuru before him looks the youngest Javi’s ever known him.

 

Soft and healing melody fills the rink the way a lone candle does in a dark room. Yuzuru glides on one foot, the sleeves of his arms fluttering as if held aloft by spring breeze. He began to mouth words Javi doesn’t know yet somehow understands. He mimes taking in a deep breath and Javi’s chest tightens. The piano moves him, his hands sing a story of hope and loss and a town that had survived unimaginable things. Javi realizes as Yuzuru gently wipes his eyes to the haunting vocals that he is watching a heart bared on ice, not the red raw one he witnessed at Nice, but one so thoroughly broken he can’t tell where the fractures begin and end. When the last note melts away, Yuzuru gives a weather-worn smile that feels far too honest for an audience of seven thousand and Javi to see.

 

Yuzuru is called out of his trance back home by a thunderous applause. With bright eyes and wet cheeks, he bows and bows and bows.

 

* * *

 

One day left before his flight back to Toronto. With everything that had happened in Sendai—his clean short and subpar free, Yuzuru’s world record, the tremors—Javi is drained, and more than happy to spend the day lounging in his hotel room with his thoughts to keep him company.

 

But then, there’s a knock. Yuzuru shows up at his door, armed with a shopping bag and a thick sheaf of travel itinerary. Javi grabs his jacket and follows him without a word.

 

First stop is Ice Rink Sendai, tucked away behind a spiraling stairwell in a nondescript strip mall. Yuzuru’s stride transforms as he walks confidently through the glass doors, leaving Javi behind to catch up. The familiar odor of a public ice rink striking Javi’s nostrils. It’s small and comfortable and he fights down that wave of nostalgia for his old rink back in Madrid.

 

The rink is jam-packed with skaters of all ages, mostly older folks gliding along the boards but Javi spies a few ambitious youngsters fooling around in the center, attempting single jumps and spins. His heart tugs when he sees a boy goes for a single axel, only to flop on the ice, much to the amusement of his friends.

 

“Want to skate?” Yuzuru asks, interrupting Javi’s thoughts.

 

It takes a while but Javi finds an equilibrium in his rental skates easily enough and with a little practice, falls into his usual rhythm, losing himself in stroke exercise with a concentration that would make Tracy proud. The boots are softer than his Grafs so he doesn’t dare to jump with them.

 

Yuzuru is quickly accosted by a flock of kids, who clap excitedly at his demonstrated hydroblade. Wearing plain clothes and skating on home rink ice, Yuzuru’s cheeks flush with an uncomplicated happiness, free of the intensity that Javi is familiar with. He pulls Javi into their game and they spend the rest of the morning showing simple tricks for the kids. One child dares Javi to do a “hard” jump. Javi tosses a prayer and produces a two-footed double axel.

 

Not to be upstaged, Yuzuru somehow lands a triple axel (clean!!) in rental boots.

 

“I can’t double axel,” Yuzuru later admits.

 

 _Of course._ Javi shakes his head.

 

They get off ice for a lunch break. According to Yuzuru, the number one place for Japanese food is his mother’s kitchen. Javi wholeheartedly agrees as he stuffs his face with the Hanyu’s homemade bento. Javi makes a valiant attempt to master chopsticks but gives in to a fork after mutilating a piece of beef tongue. While they eat, Yuzuru happily points out various items of interest in the rink, including a gift shop stand that sold Irene gloves; another piece of home Yuzuru carried with him.

 

They visit a tiny skating equipment shop next door, where the proprietor greets Yuzuru like a old friend. Yoshida Toshinobu, Yuzuru’s blade specialist, eyes Javi suspiciously but any reserve is quickly dissipated when he and Yuzuru begin to chat. Javi can tell Yuzuru’s trying to keep the conversation short but, with so much ground to be covered, they talk for a good while anyway before Yuzuru departs the shop with a set of newly sharpened blades.

 

They walk a bit more. Yuzuru tries to explain some of the sights, the significance of the buildings and landmarks they’re passing. A row of newly planted trees. A favorite electronics store. An abandoned baseball field.  A neighborhood street cat that was affectionate with strangers. The efforts strain the extent of Yuzuru’s vocabulary. The pauses between his sentences stretch out longer and longer, but Javi can’t find it in himself to mind.

 

* * *

 

It is nearly sunset when they arrive at the beach.

 

They walk for a long time, treading lightly on the wet sand, waves lapping at their heels. Javi notices Yuzuru never lets the incoming tide touch him.

 

“We can move further,” Javi offers, watching Yuzuru dodge a particularly rapid rush of seawater. “So we don’t get wet.”

 

“This is okay,” Yuzuru insists and shifts the shopping bag slung over his shoulder, dancing carefully just out of reach. They step around a partially unearthed set of tires, a broken cabinet, the remnants of a child’s kite. Bunches of planted flowers dot the ground. A thousand questions spring forth in Javi’s mind but none make it past his lips.

 

Suddenly, Yuzuru stops in his tracks and faces the ocean. Water catches his shoes but he doesn’t seem to notice, distracted by a higher purpose. He points to the sunlit horizontal, swathes of orange and red light the sky aflame.

 

“Sochi,” Yuzuru declares. “There is Sochi. I must skate there to win.”

 

The incoming tide tugs at the sand around their feet. Javi is very aware of the wreckage half-buried around them. His eyes follow the pointed finger. He sees dried blood underneath Yuzuru’s nail from two days before, where he’d gripped the breakfast table and worried Brian sick by scarcely touching his food. He remembers the tightness in his chest when Brian hardly paid attention to him at all that morning, despite the self-evident reasons. He thinks of his past panic attacks and Yuzuru’s exhibition skate and Javi is suddenly reminded that time, salve for wounds that fester still, hasn’t passed nearly enough for any of it to stop hurting.  They are people with history. They have too much under their skin.

 

But the day is warm and the sun is golden and if Javi closes his eyes, he almost believes, with the same fierce conviction that Yuzuru possesses, that one day he can put it all behind him too.

 

“So will I.”

 

Yuzuru nods, satisfied with Javi’s answer.

 

The Japanese skater reaches into his bag and pulls out the feathered bouquet. He gives the ocean a deep bow and places the red flowers down at the edge of the waves where, in an hour or so, the water would gently take it away. He flashes Javi a quick smile as they press on. They walk, shoulder to shoulder, forward.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes ******  
>   
> [1] The 2011 Tōhoku earthquake, of course, needs no introduction. It may interest readers to know that on the morning of the men's free skate, an earthquake of a magnitude of 5.3 (Richter scale) off the coast of Honshu rocked Miyagi Prefecture and the surrounding region around 5:21 am local time. Average intensity felt was around IV-V, an intensity that would have been felt by most people, with inside objects, windows and doors disturbed but little structural damage incurred.
> 
> [2] Yuzuru Hanyu wins his first NHK Trophy gold after placing first in the free skate segment of the competition. Daisuke Takahashi takes silver. Javier, unfortunately, has a bit of a meltdown during his free and slips off the podium to place fourth (I've included his FS here for the sake of chronology but don't recommend watching it unless you're really interested). They both qualify for the Grand Prix Final in Sochi.
> 
> FS: ["Charlie Chaplin" (medley)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KQshKK8c25Q)  
> FS: ["Notre Dame de Paris" by Riccardo Cocciante](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vlZypgvKTuw)
> 
> Notable exhibition gala performances include:  
> Javier Fernández: ["The Lazy Song" by Bruno Mars](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJKx1-IQhV0) (yes, Javi does have a habit of recycling exhibition programs)  
> Daisuke Takahashi: ["Primavera Porteña" by Quint Elle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yOv8GBofg-A)  
> Akiko Suzuki:["Les parapluies de Cherbourg" by Michel Legrand](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y5-_659oGJA)  
> Mao Asada: ["Mary Poppins" soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dt7jPGKZN04&t)  
> Yuzuru Hanyu: ["Hana ni nare" by Fumiya Sashida](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QRqGb3zH9xU&t)
> 
>  
> 
> **Next Chapter Preview: _Perseguir un sueño_ (To chase a dream)**
> 
> Javi fidgets as he smooths the fabric. It is comfortable but a little more snug than what he prefers. With luck, maybe Brian wouldn’t notice. After off ice warming up, he dons his jacket and heads out to the rink.
> 
> Yuzuru’s already staked out their territory by the boards with his Pooh as his sentinel. When he sees Javi, he breaks into a grin and waves. Javi waves back. He feels a prickling sensation in the back of his neck and realizes Tatsuki, in mid-stretch, is staring at him.
> 
> “Nice pants.”
> 
> Javi flushes.


	20. Perseguir un sueño (To chase a dream)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javi misses out on a medal at the Grand Prix Final in Sochi, but gains something far more precious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, this chapter took nearly two months to write. I had intended it to be part of this year's NaNoWriMo project but GP tour of disaster happened and effectively derailed my grandiose plans of pounding out 50K of content. In my foolishness, I naively thought I could "just write some fluff."
> 
> FLUFF. IS. HARD. DIALOGUE. IS. HARD. SCENES WITH MORE THAN TWO PEOPLE DRIVE ME UP THE WALL. I think I ruptured something writing this...
> 
> Many thanks to my beta for putting up with my wailing messages of self doubt at odd hours of the day, holding my hand while I keysmashed my way through the outline/concept stage, and coaching me through some of the most challenging writing I've ever done. 
> 
> Also, _El cisne_ officially turned a year old earlier this week so I wanted to take a moment to say Thank You! Thank you for reading. Thank you for _re_ reading. Thank you for the comments, kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions! Your support means a lot and inspires me to bring my best to writing every chapter. And isn't it crazy that it's been an entire year since this all started? Please accept this long overdue update as my holiday gift to you. 
> 
> Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas! Please enjoy!

“Representing Spain, Javier Fernández!”

 

Javi draws in a breath and almost chokes on his spit. His throat rubbed raw, his arms and legs quiver like a child who’s yet to learn to walk.

 

Gloves? Where are they.

 

Oh right, he doesn’t wear gloves. Maybe he should start.

 

Well, it was too late for that now. His hands barely catch on the boards, the blades slipping beneath his feet. Javi looks up. Drunkenly tilts but heaves upright just in time. Javi gasps out a rattling breath when he sees just how many people were sitting in the stands. He wonders if those in the front row could see his palms sweating bullets. Or even the people at home; every pixel of coverage cruelly rendered in high definition detail. He pulls at the collar of his costume. Breathe... _breathe!_

 

Breathe, Brian says, his hands on top of Javi’s. Javi gulps and gulps but the air is too thin, too sharp and slices down his throat in shards. His heart hammers away at his ribcage. Too hot, too fast. Was he going to collapse? Faint dead away during the most important moment of his life? He opens his mouth to ask Brian-

 

But he’s already at center ice. Alone. The rink impossibly white. Four and a half minutes impossibly long. He can hear nothing but the blood roaring in his ears: here it is! Here it is! Nownow _now!_ His music starts. Cuts through him like a shrieking alarm.

 _  
_ Javi jumps.

 

He wakes up to the taste of morning breath and his phone ringing. It’s Brian’s call. It’s Brian’s _fifth_ call. Javi leaps out of bed, cursing, shoving into his suitcase any belonging within an arm’s reach. The vestiges of the dream make way for reality. He has a plane to catch.

 

To Sochi.

 

* * *

 

Savoring the heady aromas of freshly baked bread, Javi’s eyes rake over the battalion of iced cakes from behind the counter. Honey, chocolate, berries, nuts, caramel, plain vanilla. So many choices compete for his attention that their colors make his head spin. He fidgets when the owner—a disgruntled Russian grandmother—grumbles from the back of her throat, but the moment passes when the door jangles open.

 

“Javi!” Mao greets from the bakery entrance, her cheeks flushed with her usual effervescence. Trailing behind her are Daisuke and Tatsuki. Daisuke sidles up to Mao and nods him a hello. They exchange the usual pleasantries about the local weather, congratulations for making it to the Final, and compliments of the impressive sights the city had to offer.

 

Meanwhile, Tatsuki marches past them all in favor of a mounted display of candied apples.

 

“Did Javi see the new rink?” Mao asks. Her tone turns wistful and dreamy. “It’s beautiful.”

 

“Not yet. I heard it’s very blue.”

 

“So different from Vancouver rink. Different ice, different mood,” Daisuke adds.

 

“Exciting, isn’t it? Sochi will be your second?”

 

“Second for Mao-chan. Third for me. But—” A theatrical pause. “—Nationals will decide.”

 

Javi rolls his eyes. Daisuke responds with a bashful grin.

 

“It’s true. So many new skaters,” Mao sighs, a touch melodramatic. “Jump high, skate fast. Hard for us oldies!” She playfully grabs Daisuke’s shoulder.

 

“Riiiight, Ms. Triple Axel.” Javi drawls.

 

Mao giggles. “No more skating talk. We come to buy sweets. _Someone_ —” A glare. “—promised to bring snack and _forgot_.”

 

Daisuke flinches at her emphasis. Coughing awkwardly, he looks everywhere but her. “Well, you always say we should try new food. So now we try new food.” He turns to Javi. “You here to try new food too?”

 

“No, not for me. I was looking for Yuzuru.”

 

A pause.

 

Something shifts in the air: faded laughter, silence that lingers a second too long, a drop of blood in the water.

 

“You are a good friend.” Daisuke eyes Javi strangely, each word deliberate.

 

Javi scratches his head. “Not as good as I thought. I didn’t find out his birthday until today.”

 

Mao, in contrast to her teammate, visibly lights up at the idea. “Ooh, you must get cake!” She manhandles Javi over to the counter, pointing at a display. “This one? His favorite.”

 

Startled, Javi nevertheless obediently presses his face against the glass. “Strawberry, huh?”

 

“He likes strawberry shortcake!”

 

“ _Japanese_ strawberry shortcake. Are you sure this is the same deal?”

 

“Same enough. Looks tasty, no?”

 

“I guess so.”

 

“Great! Uh, excuse me, miss, how much?”

 

“I don’t think this is good idea.”

 

Mao and Javi snap around to ogle at Daisuke.

 

“Why not?” Javi asks.

 

Daisuke glances at Mao before answering. “Maybe Yuzuru can’t eat cake.”

 

“And why not?” Mao levels at his gaze, one hand on her hip. “He is human. He eats.”

 

“Maybe he’s on sports diet.”

 

“I don’t think he’s on any diet.” Javi tries to recall the meal they shared after NHK Trophy: beef tongue, rice, veggies. Nothing about it screamed regimented diet.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Look, I train with him. We see each other all the time. I would have noticed if he were on some kind of diet.”

 

“But how often you eat together?”

 

“Often enough.” Javi doesn’t know why but something in Daisuke’s tone is making him defensive. “No need to interrogate me. It’s just a cake.”

 

“You know Yuzuru doesn’t eat local food before competition?”

 

“Of course I do. But this-”

 

“He scared it will make him sick. What if you buy and he doesn’t want?”

 

“Well-”

 

“Both feel bad. Waste money too.”

 

“Dai-chan!” Mao roughly tugs at Daisuke’s coat. She speaks to him in rapid Japanese but he ignores her.

 

“Before we come in you did not know what to buy.”

 

“Well, now I do!” Javi retorts weakly.

 

“But you did not know then, how you sure he does not have sports diet? Cake’s heavy. Can upset stomach.” Daisuke folds his arms. “Do you know Yuzuru has digestion problem?”

 

“I, he does?”

 

Daisuke smirks then, victorious.

 

“You know him only as rinkmate, as skater. How much about Yuzuru do you really know?”

 

Javi opens his mouth, willing a protest to come to him, but nothing does.

 

“The bread rings are very good.”

 

The three of them jump. Tatsuki, seemingly manifested out of thin air, wedges himself in between Javi and Daisuke, holding a steaming baked good. He mildly offers one to Mao. “Mao-chan want one?”

 

“Ah, yes, thank you Tatsuki-kun,” Mao lets go of Daisuke’s coat and accepts the bread ring. She takes a bite. “Wow, this is-! Not good! At all! You’re wrong Tatsuki-kun!” She stuffs the rest into her mouth, making her cheeks puff out like a squirrel. Tatsuki doesn’t seem at all surprised despite her puzzling reaction. “We better go find other store for snack, right? Dai-chan?” Her smile, warm and sugar-glazed, is sharp enough to kill a man.

 

“... sure.” Daisuke steps away from Javi. Mao pulls at his coat none too gently towards the exit. Before leaving, he hovers by the door.

 

“Javi, I am sorry if I offend-”

 

“No, it’s okay, no hard feelings.” It isn’t a lie, but Javi can’t shake off the feeling like he’s just stumbled out of a boxing ring black and blue.

 

Over a _cake_.

 

“It’s for Yuzuru’s sake.”

 

The door closes behind Team Japan.

 

Javi is alone, standing in front of an array of sweets that has soured.

 

* * *

 

Enthusiasm lets men achieve the impossible, like getting two not-morning people out of bed early and ready for practice in their eagerness to check out the rink. Or at least Yuzuru does. Yuzuru’s already packed and ready to go. Meanwhile, Javi’s tearing his suitcase apart.

 

“Forget something?”

 

“I can’t find my training pants.”

 

A snort. Javi pauses in his suitcase pawing to eye Yuzuru who, sitting on his bed, is mindlessly shuffling through his iPod. Javi briefly wonders what bands Yuzuru listens to. He knows Yuzuru is a rock enthusiast; he’s caught the teen playing air guitar more than enough times. But what bands did he follow? Who was his favorite artist? It wasn’t something Javi had ever bothered to ask. All they ever seemed to talk about was figure skating.

 

_How much about Yuzuru do you really know?_

 

Now’s not the time for that. Javi shakes his head to get rid of Daisuke’s voice. He then upends the contents of his suitcase onto his bed before tossing the suitcase unceremoniously on the carpet. After a thorough search, his pants are still nowhere to be found. Javi drops back on the bed with a groan.

 

“Could have sworn I packed them last night,” Javi whines.

 

“Forget shirt, forget pants.” Yuzuru recounts with his fingers, looking far too amused for Javi’s liking. “Will Javi forget skates next?”

 

“I’m not _that_ forgetful.” Javi studies the pants for his short program and wonders if they would last the wear and tear of practice. He glances at his phone for the time and winces.

 

“You don’t have to wait for me.”

 

“I don’t,” Yuzuru agrees. With a dip of his head, he hops off the bed and pads silently across the carpet to the foot of Javi’s bed.

 

“Stand up,” Yuzuru demands. Javi shuffles to his feet and is suddenly met with a faceful of Yuzuru, who’s standing so close Javi’s breaths brush against his bangs.

 

“Wha-” The question dies on his lips when Yuzuru places his hands on Javi’s hips. Yuzuru moves him slightly from side to side, matching their leg lines, worrying his lip like a skeptical buyer inspecting wares for flaws. Javi wants to object to being treated like merchandise but gets distracted by the little bob in Yuzuru’s throat, the way his eyelashes fan out above his cheekbones. They’re about the same height now, Javi realizes with a jolt. Yuzuru’s all gangly limbs as always but had his hands ever been quite this warm?

 

All of a sudden, Javi’s suitcase snaps shut. The sound startles them both out of their trance. They look at each other, dazed. Neither makes a move until Javi can’t bear the silence and clears his throat.

 

“Ah, yes.” Yuzuru awkwardly removes his hands and backs away, almost stumbling in his haste. Javi lets go of a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Maybe tight but. But, uh, should be good.”

 

“What should be good?” Javi only catches a glimpse of Yuzuru’s ears turning red before his own face is pelted with Team Japan trousers.

 

* * *

 

Wardrobe crisis averted, Javi makes it to practice on time after all. He fidgets as he smooths out the fabric. It is comfortable but a little more snug than what he prefers. With luck, maybe Brian wouldn’t notice. After warming up off ice, he dons his jacket and heads out to the rink.

 

Yuzuru’s already staked out their territory by the boards with his Pooh as his sentinel. They had mutually and unspokenly agreed to not unpack their little morning episode, in fear of complicating their already strange friendship. Still, Javi fidgets with his pants some more, trying to brush off the memory of those warm fingers on his person. He decides to hang out on the opposite side of the rink, content with watching the Zamboni alone.

 

That is, until he feels a prickling sensation in the back of his neck and realizes that Tatsuki, in mid-stretch, is staring at him.

 

“Nice pants.”

 

Javi flushes.

 

He refuses to dignify that comment and stares harder at the Zamboni, willing time to pass, but then Tatsuki speaks up again.

 

“Why didn’t you buy the cake?”

 

Javi jumps. “What—oh, you mean at the bakery.”

 

“Where else?” Tatsuki says with a shrug.

 

“Well, I figured it wouldn’t be good,” Javi replies, “to pick something I don’t know if he’ll like or _can_ eat. Like his digestion thing, whatever it is. ”

 

“Yuzuru not good at digesting meat. Cake doesn’t have meat.”

 

“Oh, that’s what it’s about?” Javi thinks back and, yeah, Yuzuru did seem to prefer tofu and beans and protein shakes over red meat.

 

“Still, my point stands: I didn’t think it through.”

 

“Your point,” Tatsuki lingers, “or Daisuke’s point?”

 

Javi shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. He was right anyway.”

 

“It would matter to Yuzuru if it came from you.”

 

“Would it? Thought counts but he can’t snack on a thought.”

 

Tatsuki smiles cryptically. “Some say good intention nourishes the heart.” He turns to gaze at Yuzuru, who is making sure Pooh’s ears are correctly in place. “It’s still his birthday. He would appreciate something.”

 

“Something,” Javi echoes, “something nice, yeah. But I also don’t wanna half-ass it. He deserves better.”

 

Tatsuki’s watchful eyes are on Javi now. Javi resists the urge to squirm.

 

“Yes, he does.”

 

Javi doesn’t know how to respond to such a short and earnest remark, but fortunately, an organizer saves him by signaling that the ice is ready.

 

Skaters and coaches slowly gather at the rink entrance. There’s a hullabaloo of media trailing behind Daisuke, who self-effacingly nods and smiles as he is soon joined by his fellow compatriots. Takahiko waves him hello and Tatsuki walks over to him to exchange friendly talk. It hits Javi that for the first time in history, four out of the six men were from Japan. Even Yuzuru races, all arms and legs, to join his countrymen, chattering rapidly in their shared tongue.

 

Feeling quite the odd man out, Javi brightens a little when he sees Patrick.

 

“Hey, seems like we’re the only non-Asian reps here.”

 

Patrick blinks. “Dude, I’m Chinese-Canadian.”

 

The Chinese-Canadian then wanders off to consult his coach.

 

Well then.

 

There’s the snapping slaps of skate guards being removed, a gentle swing of the board gate being opened, the whoosh of refrigerated air sweeping past to tickle their noses.

 

The ice in Sochi is crisp and new. Javi digs deep, enjoying the growl of his blades biting into the surface. He slips into his routine. The familiar rush of adrenaline accompanies his strokes. Jumps come out easy and clean. He doesn’t have to fight for any landing today. Javi wonders if there’s something about being in the actual venue for the Olympics that’s bringing out the best in his skating.

 

As he loops around for his cool-down lap, he drinks in the arena—row upon row of brightly colored seats, waiting to be filled. Javi closes his eyes and breathes. For a moment, he can almost hear the roar of the crowd, see a stadium brimming with ecstasy and light. He starts out of his reverie at a hard poke in his ribs. Javi opens his eyes.

 

“Not there,” Yuzuru insists and makes a waving motion as if swatting a fly. Seconds pass by and when Javi shrugs, Yuzuru shakes his head. He puts his hands around Javi’s waist. Picking up a bit of speed, Yuzuru pushes.

 

“Hey, Yuzu, what are you doing?”

 

“Stand here.” Yuzuru pushes him until they stop in the center of the rink. Yuzuru lets go of him and circles around, pivoting until he’s standing on Javi’s right. He stands completely still, his arms out, head slightly bowed, deep in thought. With a mumble of Japanese, Yuzuru then loops past Javi and rushes back to the spot next to him, this time with a running start and a pump of his arms, and gives a little hop that ends in an abrupt stop.

 

As if miming a jump on top of a podium, Javi laughs at the realization.

 

Yuzuru returns Javi’s grin with a shy one of his own. “Want to try?”

 

Part of Javi feels silly for doing so but in the midst of the Olympic rink, at the Olympic test event, he figures what the hell and goes for it anyway. Channeling a dignified air of solemnity, Javi glides to the center and inclines his head, circling to acknowledge an invisible crowd before pretending to step onto a make-believe podium, next to Yuzuru. They grin foolishly before Yuzuru knits his brows together and shakes his head.

 

“Longer,” Yuzuru prompts, his voice soft. “Do you see?”

 

Javi pauses uncertainly before Yuzuru clarifies by sinking into a bow fit for a king. Javi copies his gesture, even goes on to add an obsequious flourish of his hand as he does so. He lets his imagination spin the details into existence. The roar of a cheering crowd, of the entire world, comes easily enough, as does the familiar heat of the spotlight on his back. He feels the weight of the medal around his neck, heavy with carried dreams, but doesn’t dare to look down to confirm its color. Instead, Javi looks up and sees the Spanish flag waving proudly in the distance, as big and bright as his grin. Which pole it’s flying from though, that’s a bit hazy too.

 

When he looks up from his bow, he finds Yuzuru studying him intently. The Japanese skater taps a finger under his own chin as if in deep thought.

 

“Right side better for Javi,” Yuzuru proclaims with an air of generosity and stretches his neck out a little further, trying to add a few more extra centimeters to his height. It doesn’t take long to figure out from his cheeky little smirk and Javi gets his revenge by tickling Yuzuru so he can climb the top of the podium himself.

 

They’re still laughing when they get off the ice together. Feeling goosebumps on his arms, Javi doesn’t need to look far to find Tatsuki at rinkside, watching them.

 

* * *

 

Javi considers himself an easygoing roommate. Which is why the first time Yuzuru knocks over a cup onto the floor, Javi lets it go. And when the door slaps shut, he lets that go too. Javi knows all too well the vexation of underperforming in the short program. The focus just hadn’t been there for either of them and now all Javi wants to do is curl up in his toasty bed and put the whole competition out of his head.

 

That was the plan anyway. Unfortunately, Yuzuru had a different coping mechanism. Another thump, this time the casualty was a high school textbook Yuzuru had brought with him. Javi grits his teeth and twists the earplugs in a little more firmly, turning on his side to face away from the source.

 

Somehow Yuzuru manages to knock over his bedside lamp, dislodging the plug from the wall socket and plunging the entire room into darkness. For a blissful few seconds there is quiet and Javi burrows happily into his pillow.

 

He draws the line however, when Yuzuru finds the plug and shoves it back into its socket, restoring light to the room once more.

 

“Bed. Now.” Javi shucks over the covers. He crosses over and latches on to Yuzuru’s wrist. Yuzuru kicks up a fuss, whining about how important image training is, but Javi’s resolve to sleep overpowers him. Javi deposits Yuzuru back onto his bed before retreating to his own.

 

“It’s fucking one o’clock. I’m out. And you should be too.”

 

Yuzuru pouts but ceases to complain, perhaps catching on to the note of exhaustion in Javi’s voice.

 

“Twelve points.”

 

An indistinct groan from beneath the covers, but Yuzuru persists.

 

“Twelve points. Only one more quad sal. Can do it.”

 

“Good _night_ , Yuzu.”

 

Yuzuru stays quiet for a mercifully long while, allowing to Javi drift off.

 

“Javi?”

 

A grunt.

 

“Tomorrow, we skate free.” Yuzuru switches off the light.

 

* * *

 

Before Javi assumes his starting pose, he steals one last glance at the leaderboard flashing overhead. Fifth in the short, twelve points behind the leader. Javi relaxes. This distance from the podium was a familiar but not discouraging feeling.

 

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Javi begins, his steps guided by the soulful strains of Chaplin.

 

He had surprised not only David but also himself when he picked out Chaplin for his free skate.  Morozov had always picked his music before and when he first began working with David, he’d left it up to the choreographer as well. Javi wasn’t like Yuzuru, who possessed unnerving clarity in the vision for his skating—something all of the top skaters seemed to have. In a small way, Javi still feels like a fish swept out happenstance to sea, coasting the waves with the more established and talented skaters on the circuit.

 

Javi is not the most musical skater, nor the most refined, and there is a lot he is lacking. Not just his spins but his edgework and all of the details in between. Nevertheless, Javi pushes in all the ways he can, in all the ways he knows how. And to start, for now, he opens with his quadruple toe loop. Frost flies as his blade catches the ice, his knee bending deep to save the landing.

 

The next one is a combination Javi’s never tried before in competition, but it’s one that he’s landed so many times in practice, he doesn’t hesitate for a second going into the takeoff. With a snap, he sweeps into a quad sal-triple toe.

 

 _Breathe_. Excitement rises like a high tide but Javi holds it back. Could he do it? To land not one, or two, but _three_ quads cleanly for the first time? The music shifts and builds. Javi scrambles to keep up Chaplin’s whimsical play. A skip. A hop. His heart pumps fast and full.

 

Javi flies, and when he touches down, he carves both the ice and his contribution to history.

 

* * *

 

Banquets are always an odd affair for Javi. Often the sole representative from Spain, Javi’s learned to drift. Team Canada is usually his go-to table. But he feels awkward joining tonight when Patrick is still brooding over his unfashionable finish (“I fucking Zayaked, Scott, that is so not okay”). So instead Javi finds himself sitting at the rambunctious party that is Team Japan. He spends his time sandwiched between Keiji and Ryuju, picking at questionable Russian dishes. Daisuke, the newly crowned GPF champion, is looking steadily pink with pride and no small amount of Russian water. He calls loudly for a team photo.

 

“I can take the photo,” Javi offers and Daisuke clumsily hands him his phone. There’s scraping of chairs as Team Japan all try to arrange themselves by height. Javi’s about to snap the photo when little Satoko Miyahara, standing on tiptoe in the front, breaks formation and turns around.

 

“Hanyu-kun’s not here.”

 

Javi internally winces at a memory of Yuzuru keeling over during gala practice, so nauseous with food poisoning Kikuchi had to help him back to their room.

 

“Maybe he feel little better now, enough for photo?” Mao asks.

 

“Javi, you’re his roommate,” Takahiko addresses Javi out of the blue. “Can you see if he’s ok?”

 

“Sure, I can do that.”

 

“Good idea,” Mao enthuses and before Javi can return the phone back to Daisuke, she’s already pressed a dessert plate into his hands. “Bring this cake up.”

 

A plate that’s whisked away a beat later, predictably, by Daisuke.

 

“Cake bad for -hic!- sick people,” Daisuke slurs, almost falling over in his attempt to set the cake slice back down on the table. “You -hic!- want to make him more sick?”

 

Undeterred, Mao shoves a heavy plate of ominously red stew into Javi’s hands.

 

“How about Russia soup thing.”

 

Daisuke yanks it away again, the contents sloshing dangerously. Akiko rushes to take the plate from her friend’s slippery hand. “You don’t even know name! Who -hic!- know what’s in it.”

 

In an astonishing display of kleptomaniacal agility, Mao swipes a drink off a passing server’s tray without blinking.

 

“Water is fine, yes?”

 

Akiko coughs. “Mao-chan, that’s not water.”

 

Before Javi knows it, Daisuke and Mao are locked in impassioned argument in Japanese while he’s left standing with a glass of vodka he’s not entirely sure what to do with. He jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder and a dark whisper in his ear.

 

“Meet me by the men’s restroom.”

 

The restrooms are quite a ways from the reception. Javi arrives to find Tatsuki waving at him from behind a potted shrubbery in the corner. Javi knows better than to question so he joins the Japanese skater in crouching behind the indoor vegetation. Even with leaves in his hair, Tatsuki somehow makes squatting behind a potted plant look dignified.

 

“Why-” Tatsuki hushes Javi with a finger to his lips. They both fall silent as they wait for a gaggle of Russian junior skaters to pass by. Once the sound of footsteps had faded away, Tatsuki relaxes.

 

“You wanted to talk to me?”

 

Tatsuki nods gravely, reaching out to clasp Javi’s hands. Javi clears his throat when Tatsuki holds on for just a little too long. His expression inscrutable, Tatsuki lets go, revealing the small cardboard box nested between Javi’s palms.

 

“Don’t,” he says when Javi tries to lift open the lid. “For Yuzuru.” A pregnant pause. “Treasure it with your life.”

 

“But—”

 

“Yuzuru’s future depends on this.”

 

Flummoxed, Javi can only eke out a nod.

 

His business done, Tatsuki gets up, dramatically runs fingers through his hair, and leaves Javi with only a pause in mid-step.

 

“Whatever you do, don’t tell him they’re from me.”

 

* * *

 

Javi reaches for his key card but thinks better of it. He knocks first before entering.

 

The room is dim. Javi has to blink several times to make out the lump on Yuzuru’s bed. The sick teen is cocooned in blankets and sheets, Pooh in his lap, his face bathed in the blue light of his laptop. His eyes are shadowed but alert when they meet Javi’s at the door.

 

“How are you feeling?” Javi flicks on the switch. In the light, Yuzuru still looks alarmingly green.

 

A half-heart shrug. “Okay, just....” He sticks out his tongue and makes a gagging sound, lips curling into a sullen pout. “Javi early.”

 

“Yeah, I cut out a little early. Wasn’t much fun without you.” Yuzuru’s tired smile at the remark is worth missing out the after-party. Yuzuru scoots over to make room and Javi obliges, bed springs creaking as he slides. “Mao and the others are doing team photos—you want to join them?”

 

A slow shake of his head. “Homework.”

 

“Studying for a test?” Intrigued, Javi flips through a nearby textbook on the bed.

 

It’s heavy, corners worn down to bits and margins densely packed with light pencil scrawls. Of course Yuzuru is the type to write notes all over. It dawns on Javi, however, that he has seen this handwriting elsewhere, very recently. He had waited until Tatsuki had left the restroom before daring to peek. He pulls out Tatsuki’s delivery from his pocket and unboxes it. Out come flashcards spilling into his hand.

 

“Hey, Yuzu, isn’t this—”

 

Yuzuru’s eyes blow up comically wide. He snatches the box and cards from Javi, clutching the handmade flashcards close to his breast as if he would never part with them again.

 

“ _Where you find this?”_ Yuzuru growls, his voice unrecognizably harsh with illness.

 

Javi flounders. “Uh...I-I found it—on the floor?”

 

Japanese cursing.

 

“Whoa, ok calm down. Someone, um, gave it to—”

 

“ _Who?”_

 

“Someone-”

 

“Was it Keiji?”

 

“No.”

 

“Fei?”

 

 _“_ N- _”_ Who the hell was Fei?

 

More cautious. _“_ Mao-chan.”

 

“No-”

 

“Tatsuki?”

 

“...”

 

“It _was_ Tatsuki!” An explosion of what sounded like a string of extremely vitriolic Japanese swearing.

 

It takes a while for Yuzuru to exhaust himself and lapse into calm. He fiddles with the study cards, turning them over like clockwork without really reading through the contents.

 

“You...uh want me to help you study?”

 

The corners of Yuzuru’s eyes crinkle.

 

“Card in Japanese.”

 

Javi’s cheeks flush. “Well, maybe I can hold the cards or something.”

 

“Okay.”

They work their way through Yuzuru’s cards, with Javi presenting one side and Yuzuru replying in Japanese before flipping it over to confirm his answer. It becomes a game for Javi to figure out the timing: when to present the cards, how much time to give Yuzuru, and when to cut him off if his answers were getting too long-winded. (Yuzuru swats him in reproach but begrudgingly lets it go). Cards Yuzuru stumbled on are relegated to a pile by Javi’s left elbow, to be revisited again. There aren’t many of those and not too much time passes before those cards rejoin the rest.

 

In the end, Javi’s not sure how much help he’s actually provided but Yuzuru looks pleased, so that’s a win in Javi’s book. They fall into a comfortable silence, Yuzuru typing again while Javi searches around the room for a distraction. His eye catches the white glint of a medal by the nightstand.

 

“Congrats on your medal.”

 

Yuzuru presses his lips together into a flat line.

 

“Lost,” he mutters, refusing to look at the offending silver gleam.

 

“Your first Final medal,” Javi reminds him.

 

“Skated bad. No power.” Yuzuru huffs. He then lowers his voice to a whisper for fear that saying it aloud would give form to such treacherous doubt. “Sochi silver now. What if Sochi silver again?”

 

Javi recalls Vancouver and his 14th finish. “Would getting an Olympic silver be all that bad?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Sochi is your first Olympics. Is being on the podium not impressive enough for you?”

 

“No. Only gold.”

 

Javi can only sigh in the face of such resolve. “Aren’t you a hungry one.”

 

“Hungry?”

 

“It’s a saying. Means there’s never enough titles for you.”

 

Yuzuru stops typing. He gives Javi a long hard look as if searching for something. An understanding, perhaps.

 

“Not just title. Champion is good but Olympic gold is more.” He closes the laptop in a decisive snap. “Want to be like Shizuka-san.”

 

“... Torino Olympic champion?” A firm nod. “I thought you wanted to be like Plushenko?”

 

Yuzuru doesn’t answer at first. He extends an open palm, to which Javi obediently places the medal. A disk of light reflects on his youthful face. Yuzuru traces its circumference with surprising care, running the length of the ribbon between his fingers. A measure of time passes before Yuzuru speaks again.

 

“When I was little boy, novice, Ice Rink Sendai closed. No money. Not like Nagoya or Osaka. Next rink too far away. I couldn’t skate.”

 

“Before rink closed, I hated practice.” Yuzuru chuckles at Javi’s query of disbelief. “I thought it boring. I make paper ball and play baseball on ice. I was very bad.” An impish grin, softened around the edges with nostalgia. “Make Tsuzuki-sensei very mad.”

 

The voice of Carolina, Javi’s own novice coach, rings in the back of his head, scolding him for yet another skipped practice session. He supposes some things are just universal.

 

“Then rink closed.” Yuzuru closes his eyes. His voice becomes strained. “Was very hard. I touch ice now to thank time I have.”

 

“How did your rink manage to reopen?”

 

“Shizuka-san win.” A note of hometown pride in his tone. “Win and make Sendai like skating. Not a lot. Just a little. She give prize money so rink open again. Sometimes she come watch. I do Ina Bauer for her, like _this_.” Yuzuru arches backwards and narrowly misses the headboard. Javi snickers.

 

“I want to be like Shizuka-san. Give money, give skating to Sendai. I am here because Shizuka-san, and my mother, and Sendai. Want to win gold for me and for them. My dream.”

 

Yuzuru’s words fill the room. Javi wants to pluck them out from the air and tuck them into his pocket for safekeeping. Maybe they’d give him the same drive, the same clarity, as Yuzuru possesses. Maybe they’d let him give voice to his own dream like a visionary instead of an eight-year-old crying over his first rink being torn down.

 

But Yuzuru was also a boy when Torino Olympics took place. Perhaps that is the point.

 

Yuzuru self-consciously tugs his hair behind his ears, bashful after having shared more than what he intended. “Javi… Javi have dream too?”

 

Javi draws a shaky breath. “Well, it’s kind of silly.”

 

Yuzuru’s eyes twinkle.

 

“Best dreams are silly.”

 

Javi smiles and lets the eight-year-old boy in him speak.

 

“Like you, I guess I want to give skating to Spain…”

 

And so they talk, about their first costumes, about baseball and football and which is better, about leaving home and finding home on a blade. Javi finally drops a question about the bands Yuzuru listens to and they spend the rest of the night, or however long it takes for Yuzuru to laugh until healthy colors flush his cheeks again, going through Yuzuru's iPod (“Use _earphone,_ ” Yuzuru instructs) while Javi makes snippy comments about every funny album name. The flashcards scatter between them—like a bridge.

 

* * *

 

Javi hisses when his coffee scalds his tongue. Yuzuru blearily yawns. He slumps over in his seat, dropping his head down on their table of the Starbucks at the airport. They had lost track of the time last night. It had only been Yuzuru’s mother’s gentle knock at the door that had saved Yuzuru from missing his appointed exam time entirely.

 

“How did your test go?”

 

“Okay.” Another yawn.

 

“Just okay?” Javi prods. “Even with my help?”

 

The corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Not much help.” Javi mimes a stab wound to his chest and Yuzuru’s shoulders shake with laughter. He still looks rather pale but vastly improved from yesterday.

 

“What time you fly?”

 

Javi checks the time on his phone. “In an hour.”

 

“Fly to… to Madrid?” Yuzuru tests out the Spanish word. Hearing the name of his home in Yuzuru’s trademark lisp strangely brings Javi a warm pleasure. Must be the coffee.

 

“Yup, back home to Madrid.” Javi’s hand brushes against the handle of the bag by his side. “Oh before I forget, got you a little something.”

 

Yuzuru accepts the bag with both hands, intrigued, and examines the package from all sides like a curious cat.  His eyes widen when he carefully parts open the heavy paper.

 

“I know it’s late but happy birthday.”

 

Yuzuru critically eyes the packaged bowl of pureed strawberry and sweet cream.

 

“It’s called _kissel_ , like Russian pudding. Just fruit and cream, nothing heavy.” Javi feels his palms sweat a little when Yuzuru doesn’t answer. He glares at the dessert dubiously, as if weighing whether his stomach can hold it down. The seller had reassured Javi that it was light enough for a recovering sick person. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to-”

 

Yuzuru pulls out a spoon from the bag and offers it to Javi.

 

“Thank you very much.” The phrase flows easily, smoothened by the frequency of use. “Javi too.”

 

Javi grins. They settle down to eat. Javi self-consciously dips his spoon in and out of the cream before he realizes Yuzuru is watching him keenly, only digging in once Javi takes the first bite.

 

“What are you waiting for?”

 

“Check,” Yuzuru scoops a tentative spoonful.

 

“I wouldn’t poison you!”

 

Yuzuru blows him a raspberry, lips adorably red, and gently taps Javi’s spoon with his own before resuming to poke at a layer of strawberry.

 

They slowly work their way through the _kissel_ together, taking their time as if every spoonful is numbered. The dessert is almost too sweet for their liking but what is a birthday for if not for indulgences. So indulge they do, in this moment of simple pleasure before two planes take them two separate ways until the second half of the season. Their respective Nationals await, and the World Championships, and sooner than they know it will be the fateful Olympic season. A year from now they will depart from the same airport, but will they be returning home with a medal of their choosing or bitterness on their tongue? They don’t know, so they try to make the sweetness last with every strawberry in the bowl.

 

It is only when their spoons scrape the bottom that Javi realizes he’s forgotten something. Yuzuru, however, has not. He clenches his eyes shut and clasps his hands together in a prayer. Javi hesitates for a heartbeat before he joins in. It isn’t his birthday, but the words in his pocket remind him that his dream is worth wishing for.

 

“I should have bought candles,” Javi murmurs.

 

Yuzuru finishes his prayer and opens his eyes. “Don’t need.” He taps the place above his heart. “Light in here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes ******  
>   
> [1] The 2012-13 Grand Prix Final held at the Iceberg Skating Palace in Sochi was the test event for the 2014 Winter Olympics and a historical milestone in men's figure skating history. For the men, a record number of skaters from Japan made it to the Final: Daisuke Takahashi, Takahiko Kozuka, Yuzuru Hanyu and Tatsuki Machida. Truly an era when the Japanese men's field was at its deepest! Japan had a 1-2 finish with Daisuke winning Japan's first GPF title and Yuzuru taking silver ahead of reigning World Champion Patrick Chan, who invalidated his last jumping pass in the free (...yeah, he does that).
> 
> Perhaps overshadowed here, Javi also put his mark on history that night as the first Spanish man to land three clean quads in a free program (thank you GardenofSouls for the correction), including a quad salchow-triple toe combination and a quad salchow in the second half that netted him over 13 points. A technically brilliant and charming performance that won the free (and one of my personal favorite Javi skates).
> 
> Notable performances included:  
> Daisuke Takahashi SP: [Rock 'n' Roll medley](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CdQlLYAC4Jc) (please enjoy the lit step sequence and SULTRY STARE™)  
> Javier Fernandez FS: ["Charlie Chaplin" (medley)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qfPd29Omdug&t)  
> Yuzuru Hanyu FS: ["Notre Dame de Paris" by Riccardo Cocciante](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CYFpI4_yZt0)  
> Daisuke Takahashi FS: ["Pagliacci" by Ruggero Leoncavallo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SciWgOL0EjY)  
> Men's Victory Ceremony [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PNsCrCxagh0%0A)
> 
> I also recommend Taka's short program as well (minus one fall, it was brilliantly skated). Unfortunately, the other skates ranged from meh to nuclear meltdown disaster (Tatsukiii orz).
> 
> [2] In Sochi, Javi was spotted [wearing Yuzuru's Mizuno track pants](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/d7/89/7a/d7897a871013e22f9ce387f021caa114--grand-prix-view-photos.jpg) to practice. Perhaps we shall never know the story behind this. We may also never know the story behind why he and Yuzuru were spotted doing some odd [awkward ice dancing(?)](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b4/e6/db/b4e6dbe64a8fcac67fc2ecb474ee40c9.jpg) and [having some fun](http://gallery.ru/watch?ph=PG2-ensVn) at another practice session. I recommend [Anastasiya Bochkareva's work](http://dolceflute.gallery.ru/?p=albums&parent=joAJ) for more beautiful photos.
> 
> [3] Yuzuru, unfortunately, can't seem to make it through a competition without his health taking a hit. He got food poisoning during gala practice and was thus unable to participate in the exhibition skate and the team photo [at the banquet.](http://davecskatingphoto.com/photos/2012GPF/banquet/jsw_img_9853.jpg). Never one to be unproductive, Yuzuru also took his entrance exam for his Waseda University application via Skype on that very same day.
> 
> *A brief note: "Fei" is a nickname for Ryuju Hino, who is half Russian and his Russian name is Feodor.
> 
> Bonus: here is a picture of [happy Dai at the banquet](http://davecskatingphoto.com/photos/2012GPF/banquet/jsw_img_9781.jpg).
> 
> [4] Re: Ice Rinks. Most fans familiar with Yuzuru may know that Ice Rink Sendai faced many financial challenges and had to be closed down for several years, 2004-2007. This rink was reopened largely thanks to the donation and support of Shizuka Arakawa, 2006 Olympic Gold Medalist and fellow Sendai native, which sparked a renewed interest in local skaters like Yuzuru. Shizuka is famous for her trademark layback Ina Bauer, a move Yuzuru is also famous for. Javi's first rink in Madrid was also closed down due to financial troubles, and later replaced with a restaurant.
> 
> [4] Kissel (also spelled kisel) is a fruit dish made from the sweetened juice of berries thickened with starch into a jelly pudding like consistency. It can be used as a topping for ice cream or pancakes or served with layered sweet cream like a parfait. The kissel Javi gets for Yuzuru's birthday probably looks something like [this](https://www.gastrosenses.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/vanilla-and-fruit-kissel.jpg)  
> .
> 
> **Next Chapter Preview: 継承 (Succession)**
> 
> “Yuzu, can you open the door, please?” I wait and listen. “Some of us have to get dressed.”
> 
> I hear the soft padding of feet on the other side. The door handle rattles before falling still.
> 
> Sheepish silence.
> 
> “…you can’t reach the door handle, can you.” 
> 
> An affirmative honk.
> 
> “We'd better find someone who has the key,” Takahito says.


	21. 継承 (Succession)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisuke and Yuzuru talk after the men's victory ceremony at the 2012-13 Japanese Nationals in Sapporo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [SweetSalt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSalt/pseuds/SweetSalt), my now uncloaked beta, for their usual wordcraft and wizardry with every step of the drafting process. You are amazing and lovely and splendid and I will never tire of showering you with praise. 
> 
> I would also like to thank [GardenOfSouls](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GardenOfSouls), our unofficial consultant on Daisuke Takahashi, for their exemplary work as guest beta and in finetuning Daisuke's voice here. I might have asked too much of you (staying up until 4am in the morning to work on edits, oh dear, I fear I have severely wronged you) but please know you did an _outrageously_ excellent job. I hope you had fun (we certainly had fun having you!) and I honestly cannot thank you enough for your support! 
> 
> Wishing you both oodles of healthy sleep to come your way (please don't die, here is a fluffy pillow for you to rest your poor head orz).
> 
> Please enjoy!

The moment the medal ceremony comes to an end, Yuzuru flees from the arena. He makes a beeline towards the changing rooms, bobbing and weaving and knocking into officials without a second to spare for an apology. I shift my gaze from his disappearing figure to Brian Orser’s baffled face, my eyes settling on Orser’s empty hands—at least Yuzuru had remembered to take his skate guards this time around.

 

“Poor kid,” Takahito murmurs, his eyes crinkle with worry.

 

“He’ll be fine.” I wince at my trivial tone and add, “He always makes it in time.”

 

A miracle, really. The change usually happens in a matter of seconds. We’ve all become rather proficient storytellers, spinning excuses and tales as to why Yuzuru has to take five, ten, sometimes twenty minutes to compose himself. It’s been a steep learning curve for us all but we’ve been lucky so far. How are we going to explain it this time? Certainly they're going to ask why the freshly crowned National Champion made for such a hurried exit. A deep sigh evades my lungs.

 

My right knee is throbbing again; the painkillers have since run their course. I force my stiff legs into a stride that hides the limp—a practice more frighteningly familiar with every competition. One hand on the boards, I steady myself upright, my shaky fingers fumbling with my guards. I stumble but Sensei is by my side with arms out ready to catch me. I thank her with a nod. 

 

The moment I reach the hallway I am besieged by a flock of reporters, pouncing on whoever is available after their main target has evaded them. The media is a constant presence I've learned to cope with but never have grown used to. Today, more than ever, I'm deeply grateful that Sensei shields me while Kobayashi-san repeats the mantra of ‘no interviews, no comments, please keep the questions for the press conference.’ Aimlessly, I retreat further into the back hallway. Glaring lenses and noisy camera shutters eventually fade. A moment’s reprieve. Slowing to a stop, the skates heavy on my feet, I press my forehead against the nearby wall.

A personal best should taste sweeter than this.

 

It's not even about losing the title. I am happy with what I’ve been able to achieve so far; medals, scores, and accolades have never been my main motivation. What I've always been afraid of is losing the hearts of those who once supported me. As fate willed I often ended up in the right place at the right time, meeting the right people who were exceedingly generous with their time, resources and affection, who dared dream—much more than myself— that someday that timid little boy could achieve something greater. Without their love, I never would have come this far. 

 

Will they still root for me if I can't give them something worth cheering for anymore?

 

Maybe even before any of us took the ice today, Yuzuru had already been out of my reach. His quads! So airy and sure. No nagging hesitation of a knee stitched together with more prayer than sinew. I reminisce about the long gone days when I launched myself into those four revolutions with little more than the pure strength of my spirit. All it took to take the ease away was one momentary lapse of concentration in training. One fateful triple axel attempt and my confidence went up in smoke. 

 

But today was different. I simply went for it. An echo of the adrenaline rush after the first two jumping passes still lingers in my veins, a hint of my former self. I was completely absorbed in my performance. The music cleansed my nerves of all pain. For four and a half minutes, every jump was a flight and a fall was an impossibility. Distant cheers permeated the trance only during my choreographic sequence and final spin. When I snapped back to reality, sweet elation washed over me like it hadn’t done in far too long. 

 

And then Yuzuru skated. The fleeting sugary high lasted no longer than it takes to savor a delicious dessert. 

 

So, what is left for me to do? Yuzuru is the new face of Japanese men's skating—the torch bearer. Where do I go from here? Is there any use to keep going when my very best is not enough? 

 

The wall in front of me seems to be stretching, higher and higher until I can no longer see the top. Insurmountable.

“Dai-chan?”

 

I snap to attention. Takahito’s hand is on my shoulder.

 

“Dai-chan.” His voice terribly soft. “The press conference is starting soon.”

 

Right, the press conference. We walk down the hallway together. I can tell Takahito is brimming with concern, but I’m not ready to give him an opening. Takahito awkwardly falters on the congratulations. I thank him politely and nudge the conversation toward pleasanter topics. By the time we near the end of the hallway, Takahito is animatedly chatting about his girlfriend.

 

We reach the changing room only to find it locked.

 

I have a hunch.

 

“Yuzu?”

 

No response.

 

“Yuzu, can you open the door? Some of us need to get dressed.” I wait and listen. No answer. “Are you ok?”

 

I hear the soft padding of feet on the other side. The door handle rattles before falling still.

 

Sheepish silence.

 

“…you can’t reach the door handle, can you?”

 

An affirmative honk.

 

“We'd better find someone who has the key,” Takahito says. “One of us should stay.”

 

“Alright. You keep watch; I’ll get-”

 

But Takahito has already left.

 

I sigh, sinking to my knees to sit cross-legged. The tiles are cold against my palms.

 

I absently drum my fingers on the wall, before realizing I’m doing it in time with a soft, intermittent tapping on the other side. Like the sound of metal being struck. I hope Yuzuru isn’t trying something reckless. Reckless usually ended in bent feathers and window strikes.

 

An inquiring tap.

 

“Takahito went to get the key,” I tell him. My eyes catch hold of a few feathers wedged between the door and the frame. “The door didn’t slam on you, did it?”

 

A squawk. I decide to translate that as a denial. The door handle rattles again.

 

“Please don’t,” I warn. The last time Yuzuru had tried opening a door unaided, it snapped shut on his wing. Akiko had tearfully blamed herself for not remembering to prop the door open properly. It was an experience I don’t care to repeat.

 

The door shudders into sulky silence.

 

I close my eyes. At times like these, it’s hard to know what to say. I’m not good with words like Takahiko or Tatsuki-kun. Perhaps it’s better to not say anything at all, but Yuzuru is clearly distraught so I feel obligated to say something.

 

“Congratulations. You skated well.” The words drop on the floor like a lump of lead. I mentally kick myself for sounding so overtly dejected.

 

Honking, this time urgent. There is the sound of metal clinking, scraping, like something being pushed across the floor. White ribbon edges out from the gap under the door. My breath catches at the gleam of gold.

 

“No no no!” I immediately shove the medal back, only to meet resistance on the other side.

 

More furious honking. I shush him, throwing a glance over my shoulder to see if anyone was passing by. Thankfully the hallway is empty. When I turn my attention back to the door, I see the ribbon being pushed back out again.

 

“No, it’s yours. You won it fair—ow!” I yank my nipped finger away.

 

Yuzuru’s breaths come out in angry hisses. It’s been years and I’m still not used to the mild-mannered teen acting so aggressively in his avian form. I recall a particularly bad fight he had with Kanako at a show: Yuzuru had flown up to the ceiling, tore at curtains with his beak, and refused to come down from his perch. Shi-chan had had to spend an hour coaxing him down while the rest of us brainstormed for a cover story to feed the crew members.

 

I slip the medal back, my thumb brushing the hard keratin of his beak, and then block the door gap with my forearm. 

 

“It’s yours.” I insist. “No matter how you feel about it.” 

 

The memory of Nobu’s tearstained smile and a twice-held medal ceremony resurfaces to the forefront of my mind. 

 

“No worse than how I won my first nationals title.”

 

A whine this time, thin and reedy.

 

“I know you’re upset.” I sigh with relief when I hear Yuzuru finally pulling the medal back to his side. It seems this tainted win is as sour on his tongue as it was on mine seven years before. To this day I still marvel at Nobu’s strength. I'm grateful our friendship survived the strains that inevitably come with so many years of each vying for the top spot.

 

“We both went out there with what we had to give and this is where the chips fell…”

 

I suddenly remember the audience's shocked gasp at Yuzuru’s free skate score announcement. The silence followed by a tentative applause. I shift uncomfortably for I can't think of anything to say that would make a difference.

 

"Your short was really great!"

 

More grumbling but it fades into an expectant quiet.

 

It’s no good, the words fall hollow even in my own ears. It would be presumptuous to think I could offer my kohai any words of comfort. All I know is how to skate and perhaps I’m not very talented at that either. The swan whines continue, but the pitch slowly softens to a sound that I can’t quite name. Yuzuru is such a fierce competitor, his skill so much beyond his years that I sometimes forget how young he still is.

 

How much time he has.

 

How much time I don’t have.

 

Two types of quads, including a salchow, a jump that’s eluded all but a handful of men.

 

My quad flip at NHK practice last season...the sheer rush of landing, the thrilled gut's pose after. A stunt I haven't been able to repeat since.

 

Ah, what’s with the nostalgia? There's no use dwelling on the past.

 

I’m about to inject more cheer in my voice when I place a familiar sound amidst the swan whuffs, which fade altogether to leave behind the sound of human sobbing.

 

“I wanted t-to win,” Yuzuru stammers, his voice thick with tears.

 

"You did."

 

“Maybe, but it’s, it’s... frustrating,” he ekes out as if frustrating was a wholly inadequate word.

 

I chew on my lip, also struggling. “Regardless of how you feel about your performance... You were stronger overall. You deserved to win."

 

“I am happy,” Yuzuru grinds out, “to get a high score but there’s no point if, if...” 

 

Yuzuru doesn’t say anything for a while. When he speaks again, his voice is more steady.

 

“I didn’t watch your free skate, but I didn’t need to. The cheering was enough for me to know. You could hear from outside.”

 

“Yuzu, I...really?”

 

“Yeah,” Yuzuru says, his tone reluctantly impressed. “You captured everyone in the arena. Half of the men's team watched your performance from the boards. They couldn't stop raving about your skate.”

 

“I, uh...I see.” To my deep embarrassment I had been so focused during my performance that I was unaware of my surroundings, so much so I hadn't even noticed my teammates at the boards.

 

Yuzuru interrupts my floundering. “Whatever the scores say, I didn’t win in the way that mattered most.”

 

I find it difficult to superimpose the Yuzuru I know—self-assured and unwavering—with the owner of a very young voice behind the door. Despite never having witnessed him this vulnerable before, the sadness in his voice resonates with me. Something close to a kinship. It seems that as different as we may be, the desire to move the audience’s heart drives us both.

 

“I can’t… tell you how to feel about all this.” I measure each word slowly, toeing lines I can’t see but that I’m sure exist. “You could have won in a more satisfying manner. You could have lost. There are many could-haves and should-haves—”

 

“And what-ifs. What if I didn’t make a mistake on my salchow?”   


 

“... right. What-ifs too. But everything has a purpose and nothing is wasted if we learn from our mistakes. Even if you can’t see it now, just give it time. The big picture will clear up someday. That’s what I believe in.”

 

“Time...” I have an image of Yuzuru inspecting the gold medal with those intense eyes of his, running his nails along the edge as if the gold would flake away. “I’m not sure if I have time.”

 

His response throws me for a loop. 

 

“What do you mean?”  _ All you have is time _ , I almost blurt out. I’m really not the person to advise anyone.

 

“Four Continents is in two months, World Championships in three. Can I become the National Champion by then?”

 

I sigh. “Yuzu, you  _ are  _ the National Champion.”

 

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he murmurs.

 

The shame and petulance in his voice bring me to my feet. I clench and unclench my hand for a moment, then decide to hell with it all and slam my fist against the door. Yuzuru gives a birdlike yelp.

 

“Sorry.” I cough. That could have gone better. “But I need you to pay attention here. Please listen to what I’m about to say, Yuzu.”

 

“...okay.” I wince at the return of the shakiness in his voice. However, I can’t let this go. Something needs to be said.

 

"You may not feel like you’ve earned the title, but it is yours now and it deserves respect.” I take a deep breath, steeling myself against the resurging memories of another bewildered young dreamer, pushed out into the world’s spotlight all too soon. "I understand the desire of wanting every win to be perfect, but that doesn't always happen. I wasn't happy with the way I won my first national title over one of my best friends either. Still, I went to Torino Olympics with my head held high because National Champion and Japan’s Representative are titles to carry with pride. I hope you will do the same in London. I know, _I know_ , it’s a lot to ask, but Olympic spots are on the lines and the team needs you.”

 

A pensive silence follows. The last remnants of my voice echo down the hallway. I wonder if I’ve misstepped. I wish I could stop second-guessing myself all the time, simply trust my instincts unfalteringly, but that's never been in my nature. Perhaps Yuzuru needs more reassuring words, kinder hands. I fumble for something better to say when the door unlocks with a soft click.

 

The door throws open and I find myself an armful of sniffing teenager. I still have my boots on, so I comically tower over Yuzuru like a bamboo shoot to a tanuki. His eyes are red rimmed, his lips quivering still, but the tightness of his grip speaks of a renewed resolve far louder than any word can.

 

“At Worlds,” Yuzuru avows. “I’ll earn it at Worlds. I’ll get the Olympic spots and become a skater who wins the audience’s heart. I’ll catch up to Dai-chan there.”

 

Overwhelmed by his sincerity, I look at Yuzuru—my kohai, my rival, my insurmountable wall. I remind myself that this is the same kid who once dramatically sulked on a perch for an hour. To my relief, his expression clears up into a shaky but brave smile.

 

It hits me: our team is made up of such strong people. The realization is not new but my chest swells like I am learning it for the first time regardless. 

 

Surprisingly, the competitiveness kicks back in, just a little. I remember the cheering, the lovingly crafted banners, the carefully chosen gifts and encouraging letters from fans. Somehow they still believe in me, so I’ll keep trying. The strength of their support...I want to repay it as much as I can.

 

“You’re on.”

 

It doesn’t burn quite like fire or adrenaline, but it pumps like a pulse and for now, it has to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes ******  
>   
> [1] The 2005-2006 Japanese Nationals was an especially exciting competition for the men as Japan only had one spot for the 2006 Olympics and Worlds. The two frontrunners for the title were Daisuke Takahashi, who had just medaled at the Grand Prix Final as the first Japanese man in history (he took the bronze) and Nobunari Oda, who made quite a splash in his senior debut season by medaling at both of his senior Grand Prix events. Because of an error in the scoring system software, Nobunari had originally been declared the National champion for the men’s event, with Daisuke winning silver. It was discovered shortly after that Nobunari had done four combination jumps instead of the allowed three, and the software had mistakenly counted the fourth combination jump. When the error was fixed, the placements reversed, and Daisuke claimed his first Nationals title. Daisuke was sent to the Olympics and Nobunari was assigned to Worlds.
> 
> [2] During the 2008-2009 season, Daisuke suffered a serious knee injury during practice just days before his first Grand Prix event and had to sit out the entire season. Although he recovered from surgery and resumed competing the following season, his knee injury continued to plague him for the rest of his career and worsened significantly over the course of the 2012-2013 season, which affected his jump consistency, especially his quads.
> 
> [3] The 2012-2013 Japanese Nationals competition of the men is where Yuzuru won his first Nationals title. While Daisuke won the free skate segment with a personal best score (and the highest Nationals score of his entire career), Yuzuru’s short program lead edged him out over Daisuke in the final standings. It was a very emotional night and competition for fans and skaters alike, but there is no doubt that both Yuzuru and Daisuke had amazing skates, which I’ll link here for your viewing pleasure.
> 
> Yuzuru Hanyu SP: ["Parisian Walkways" by Gary Moore](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cxretkl3DpE)  
> Yuzuru Hanyu FS: ["Notre Dame de Paris" by Riccardo Cocciante](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VXu8GwwgVT8)  
> Daisuke Takahashi SP: [Rock 'n' Roll medley](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jsrlfP8KOUc&t)  
> Daisuke Takahashi FS: ["Pagliacci" by Ruggero Leoncavallo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ip2d_h2yLo&t)  
>   
>  **A Final Note... ******  
>   
> This will be the last chapter of _El cisne_ before the 2018 Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang. In lieu of a next chapter preview, I would like to go ahead and wish every figure skater competing in Pyeongchang next month the very best of luck. Whether they are vying for a title or a medal, or want to set a personal best score and have their Olympic moment, I wish everyone clean and beautiful skates! They have all worked tremendously hard to reach this point in their careers and it will be very exciting to see all of them compete and chase their dreams.
> 
> See you on the other side!


	22. Estallar (Snap)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javi pushes a little too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um. Yes. Olympics happened. Life happened. Somehow this fic still lives.
> 
> I'll be honest; this was a very difficult chapter to write. And when you read it, I think you'll know why. It hits so many of my weak points in writing. Because of this, the drafting process was more arduous than usual (4? 5? drafts? I've lost count). I want to give special thanks to my beta and writing partner-in-crime, [SweetSalt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSalt/pseuds/SweetSalt), for their unconditional support, impeccable work and a neverending supply of patience. You push me in the best of ways and I've learned so much from working with you. <3
> 
> A shoutout to [cafe_conleche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafe_conleche/pseuds/cafe_conleche) for their assistance with the Spanish translation for the chapter title. You are a dear!
> 
> Please also note that there is no chapter preview at the end. Because the drafts change so much throughout the process, I will be releasing the snippets when the working draft is closer to its final published form. This way I don't have to stealthily go back and update the chapter title or summary. Any snippets or updates will be posted on my Tumblr @[fieryrondo](https://fieryrondo.tumblr.com). My askbox there is also open for anons who don't want to post here. I read and treasure every comment I get <3.
> 
> Enjoy~

The camera is too close. Javi’s shuffled his feet more than enough times to make his discomfort clear to the pair of Japanese cameraman and reporter, but it is either willfully ignored or goes by unnoticed. The latter seems rather unlikely given that he is still in boots and skate guards squeak.

 

“Did you learn quad salchow from your coach Brian Orser?”

 

The third (fourth? fifth??) quad-related question launches at Javi in heavily accented English. The reporter is undeniably fluent but each syllable sounds clipped, unfinished in a way that is reminiscent of Yuzuru’s uncoordinated speech. Well, minus the bashful giggling, the studious pauses, and various other tics that sand down Yuzuru’s ineptitude into something wholly endearing. Javi wishes Yuzuru were here to share this moment with him.

 

Gold. ISU Championship. Javier Fernández. European Champion. Gold.

 

Javi runs his thumb along the edge of the tiny medal around his neck over and over, bewildered still. His head foggy, his heart full of helium. It’s no wonder the Japanese media had cornered him so easily after the press conference. “No, I learned quad sal before I went to Brian. But he’s been a great help. Really great. It’s a lot more stable now with his training.”

 

“Do you and Hanyu-senshu, Yuzuru Hanyu, share the same training?”

 

“We do different things each day. Some days I need more spin practice and Yuzuru needs the harness. But overall we do share the same core training structure.”

 

The glaring camera lens shifts closer. Javi leans away, his back pressed against the wall. “Yuzuru Hanyu also has quad salchow,” the reporter states.

 

“...I guess. He hasn’t been that consistent with it.”

 

“No.” The reporter agrees. “Why is that?”

 

"Who knows." Javi’s pondered the same question more than once. It was hardly from lack of ability. Yuzuru’s landed the quad sal a respectable number of times in practice, but competition was a different beast altogether. The jump simply refused to be tamed in front of a worldwide audience.

 

“Is coach Orser’s preparation insufficient for Yuzuru?”

 

Javi twitches at the question. He thinks of Brian—his firm handshake, his fatherly advice, his exasperated but dutiful care of Pooh. “Brian’s a great coach, one of the best in the world. Yuzuru already got a world record under Brian."

 

"But not quad salchow."

 

“Well it’s—” A group of flower girls squeezes past them. Maybe a tight narrow corridor isn’t the best place for an interview. “It’s still new to him. Quad sal is hard; you don’t have the toe pick to help you.”

 

“But you, despite your disadvantages, have acquired two types of quads.”

 

Javi blinks. “Disadvantages?”

 

The reporter cocks his head to the side. “You are from Spain.” The tone, so carelessly casual, grates on Javi like sandpaper.

 

“So?” He hisses.

 

“You lack support.”

 

“What does that have to do with anything?"

 

“Despite your obstacles, you acquired quad salchow before you went to coach Orser.”

 

Obstacles. Javi knows the statement rings true, maybe even complimentary, but he heats up nonetheless at the way his humble background, years of sacrifice and homesickness, gets reduced to a single clinical word.

 

"I guess hard work does count for something, huh?"

 

The reporter's eyes glint carnivorously.

 

“Are you saying that the problem lies with Yuzuru Hanyu's work ethic?”

 

Javi starts, knocking his head against the wall behind him.

 

"Ow! Hold on, I didn't say that!"

 

“You have implied—”

 

“Don't put words in my mouth,” Javi growls, soothing the back of his head. “Yuzuru is the most hardworking person I know. He always comes to training with his little notebook and five highlighters and jumps until he’s blue in the face. Then he asks everyone what he did wrong and jumps some more. If anything, our coaches have to hold him back.” Javi takes a steadying breath; to his shock, his hands, still jittery, curl into fists, as if readying for a fight.

 

The reporter takes it all in, stroking his chin. “Perhaps the problem then lies with the team as a whole.”

 

“I— why are you asking me this?!”

 

“If someone of your background-”

 

“What d-”

 

“Let me rephrase.” The reporter finally takes a step back. He looks almost smugly professional; crisply ironed jacket and every strand of hair in place. A stark contrast to Javi’s simmering temper. “After Hanyu-senshu’s victory at Japanese Nationals, there has been… a growing interest regarding his readiness. After all, the Olympics is next season. The World Championship in London will be crucial. Not to mention, he will have a rematch against Daisuke Takahashi at the Four Continents Championship in ten days. Many, many pairs of eyes are on him.” A maddeningly neutral smile curves on his lips. “I simply wish to provide those curious eyes with an interview.”

 

“Then go interview Yuzu. I’m not his keeper, I’m not the person for these questions.” Javi sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

 

“But you are,” the reporter says, as if it explained everything. “you are his rival.”

 

* * *

 

“And then I just walked off. How fucking rude,” Javi stabs his banana pancake stack with a fork. Sitting across from him, Cortney chuckles through a mouthful of beer.

 

It’s Sunday night and they’re at Javi’s. A day before he was to fly off to Worlds. An otherwise lazy evening of absent minded button smashing on his PlayStation had been interrupted by a series of knocks at the door. Cortney had arrived with a carton of beer, a congratulatory hug, and a ‘we need to talk’. He reasoned that we-need-to-talk talks should only be approached on a full stomach and promptly fireman-carried her to his kitchen, coaxing throaty laughter from his girlfriend. Unfortunately, because Javi is a Responsible adult with a capital R, he hasn’t been keeping track of his groceries. All that greeted them in the kitchen were a box of pancake mix and browning bananas. They make do.

 

“That’s sports journalism for you. Rivalry stories are like blood in water. God, you should have seen the stuff they wrote about Tessa and Meryl before Vancouver.” Cortney shudders. “And people just ate it up.”

 

A self-deprecating chuckle bubbles forth. “Yuzu and I aren’t exactly Virtue/Moir versus Davis/White! They’ve been competing against each other since when?”

 

“The dawn of time it seems.” Cortney takes a long, thoughtful swig. “I can’t remember a time when Tessa and Scott weren’t on top of the podium in Canada.”

 

Javi hums in acknowledgment. His thoughts circle back to its favorite topic nowadays: Yuzuru. The memory of their very first podium together brings a grin to his face. It was last season at the Rostelecom Cup, the first time a Japanese man had ever won the competition, as Yuzuru later bragged to Javi. This season the Japanese men have been sweeping podiums left and right during the Grand Prix circuit. A record-breaking number of four qualified for the Final. Daisuke and Yuzuru had a historic one-two finish.

 

“Hey Cortney.”

 

“Hm?” She looks up from the rim of the can.

 

“How come you never represent Skate Canada?”

 

Cortney pauses. She remains motionless for a while before setting the can down with deliberation. She then grabs a knife and fork and begins to cut her pancakes into cubes. “Skating for a big federation has its ups and downs.”

 

“How? Seems like a sweet deal to me.” Javi shovels more food into his mouth. “Nm, you get funding, exposure, sponsorship–” He counts each perk with his fork. “–access to cool facilities, just, you know, things!”

 

“Yeah you get ‘things’,” Cortney says, accentuating with an air quote. “But you only get them if you’re the best. Best is an awfully small number. And things always come with fine print. You want exposure? You have to pose for cringy commercials. You want federation funding? You have to bring home medals.”

 

“Well, that’s obvious. You have to earn your goodies.” He reaches for a can of beer but stops midway when Cortney shoots him a look.

 

“You make it sound like… ” She snaps her fingers. “Just like that! You know, right? That most skaters will never have a breakthrough. Hell, most skaters will never even have the chance to prove their worth.” Cortney pushes her plate of thoroughly hacked up pancakes away, the cutlery rattling. She then tosses a can of beer at him. He juggles it for a few good seconds before getting a grip. “There’s your answer: I represented Kazakhstan instead of Canada because I would have never gotten an international assignment otherwise. Virtue/Moir, Weaver/Poje, Giles/Poirier; there’s your World team for the next five years.” Heat seeps out of her voice in the last few words. Drained, she settles back in her chair and reaches for the carton only to find it empty.

 

The ensuing silence is cold. Even Effie seems to sense the discomfort in the air and wanders away. Javi replays her words in his head, so bitter for someone who technically hasn’t made a senior debut yet. He—embarrassingly and irresponsibly—has been out of touch with her skating life. So he braves a guess.

 

“Is this about your ice dance partner?”

 

Cortney doesn’t answer and opts to poke unhappily at a sock bundle on the dining table that contains his European Championship medal.

 

“You still can’t find a new partner?”

 

“... no,” she admits, her voice small.

 

Javi gingerly takes her hand into his. She scoffs but lets him lace their fingers together.

 

“It’s gonna be fine. I’m sure Carol Lane knows a ton of people.”

 

“Easy for you to say, Mr. I-got-a-letter-from-the-King-of-Spain.” She runs a hand through her hair, her throat uttering frustration. “It’s not easy. You have to find someone who fits your body type, matches your lines. Someone with comparable skill level. You have to look good together.”

 

“You can look good on your partner’s behalf. You have plenty to spare.” He lightly kisses her knuckles. She giggles at his cheesy words and he smiles. It’s a good note to end the night.

 

“It’s late already, do you want me to walk you to the subway?”

 

The giggles fade. Cortney looks down, chewing her bottom lip.

 

“Hey, what’s wro-”

 

“I’m going to Prague,” she rushes in a breath.

 

Javi blinks dumbly at her. “Prague? Like the one in the Czech Republic? _That_ Prague? Now?”

 

“After Worlds,” she murmurs. “For a tryout. Two weeks, maybe longer. I don’t know.”

 

“Oh, that’s great!” He sweeps around the table to hug her. She doesn’t hug back so much as half-heartedly wraps her arms around him. “I told you everything’s gonna be fine.”

 

“Maybe. But if he’s a good fit, I may have to move there.” He feels her fingers clenching his sweater. “Would we be ‘fine’ then?”

 

Javi doesn’t allow himself to dwell on any other answer.

 

“We’ll figure something out!” He moves to swing her around the room but she wiggles out of his embrace, her eyes glazed over and her lips pursed. He struggles to fill the empty white noise for a heartbeat before Cortney extends him an olive branch.

 

“Can I stay over tonight? That way we can ride to the airport together.”

 

“Oh, sure. But I…”

 

A fond, knowing smile. “You haven’t packed.”

 

They scavenge from Javi’s many, many half-unpacked suitcases. His bag from Europeans lays gutted on his bed while Cortney rips open the rusting zipper of his bag from last summer’s ice show tour.

 

“Hey, what’s this?”

 

“What’s what?” Javi peeks from the bathroom, pausing his quest to find a tub of hair gel.

 

In Cortney’s hands is a thin elegant box with its lid open.

 

“Why do you have an arrow?”

 

Right, after all of these months, Javi had completely forgotten about Kanako’s gift. Cortney fiddles with the lid and to his alarm, he sees the lid start to tear from her efforts. Javi stumbles, almost tripping on a glove on the floor, and snatches the box from her. “Hey hey, careful. Kanako gave it to me.”

 

“Kanako?” Cortney’s voice is light and devoid of any emotion. “She a fan?”

 

“No, a skater.” He worries over the slightly misshapen lid, missing the frown on Cortney’s face entirely. Satisfied with what he sees, he drops the box into a suitcase, out of sight, out of mind. “Anyway, wanna see my exhibition props? Kurt did the choreography for me. I even recorded my voice for it!”

 

Begrudgingly, “... sure.”

 

Javi loses track of time excitedly going over the stereo, the cape, the Spanish yellow and red costume. Cortney politely nods and occasionally snipes about his tights. Undeterred by her lack of enthusiasm, Javi insists on walking her through his entire routine and by the time he’s skipping backwards to _Maniac_ , there are tears in her eyes. She playfully slaps him when he calls her ‘my Lois.’

 

“Everyone knows Superman has the hots for Batman anyway,” she laughs.

 

The next day, an old habit resurfaces.

 

“You’re cutting it close,” Brian greets.

 

“I swear I set my phone this time but,” Javi pants, “neither of us heard it.” His ears and neck flush warm, partly from sprinting to the Cricket Club’s bus stop, partly from guilt.

 

Brian rolls his eyes. He produces a cereal bar from his jacket and presses it into Javi’s hand.

 

“Think you could conjure me a coffee too?”

 

“Well actually… ” Brian playfully digs deep into his pocket. David and Cortney laugh.

 

Hunger sated, Javi boards the bus, swinging up the steps. He scans for an available seat and spots a familiar mop of hair by the front of the bus. He hesitates.

 

Javi’s been keeping a respectful distance from Yuzuru ever since the Japanese skater came back from Four Continents, frustrated to the bone for having lost to Kevin Reynolds, of all people, right in front of a home crowd. Javi left him to stew for a few days, waiting for Yuzuru’s period of self-repentance to end so they could go for an ice cream after practice. But then Yuzuru got sick. And then he got injured. Javi didn’t ask for details and Yuzuru didn’t volunteer any. In their sport, where a fraction of a degree separated successful jumps from sprained ankles, injuries are like lightning strikes—pure acts of misfortune. But Yuzuru doesn’t see it that way. To him, it spells a weakness of character. Another piece of himself to be honed with whetstone. As far as Javi knows, Yuzuru’s been back on the ice for only a week at best.

 

So when Javi sees that the familiar mop of hair is resting on Yumi’s shoulder, he decides to leave them be. He ambles down the aisle to join Cortney in the back but pauses when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

 

“You sure you can stay focused?” Brian unsubtly tilts his head in Cortney’s direction.

 

“She’s leaving soon and just wants to spend time with me. I’ll be fine.”

 

Brian doesn’t look at all convinced but he drops his hand.

 

When official practice rolls around, the one who distracts Javi isn’t Cortney after all. It’s Yuzuru.

 

The Japanese skater zips by Javi in growling strokes, changes edge into a triple axel that falls apart mid-air. He lands forward: hands, knees, and belly flat on the ice. There is an audible gasp from media crews stationed around the rink. Javi doesn’t wait to hear if camera shutters follow.

 

“Hey! Yuzu, are you alright?” He glides toward his teammate. “Did you hit your face?”

 

Yuzuru looks up at Javi, a reflexive hand upon his cheek. Under the arena lights, Yuzuru’s complexion takes on a greyish hue. “Face alright,” he says with a tight, bloodless smile. Hooded eyes dart to the media circus around them.

 

Javi offers a hand to help him up. “If you say so.”

 

Yuzuru ignores—or fails to notice—Javi’s help and struggles back up on his feet. “Javi, make way!” Javi quickly steps aside, barely misses colliding with Yuzuru who speeds off, presumably to give the jump another go. “I can’t be lazy sleeping on ice!” A note of hysteria creeps into Yuzuru’s voice. He accidentally cuts into Daisuke’s path and yells sorry in English.

 

Javi turns toward rinkside and, sure enough, Brian is hiding his face behind his hands. Even Cortney looks uneasy from the front row. When their eyes meet, she waves with forced but nevertheless appreciated gusto. He waves back.

 

When he turns back, he finds Daisuke staring openly at him.

 

Javi spends the rest of the practice trying to focus only on his skating, his choreography, his jumps. All of which are in mockingly good state in comparison to Yuzuru’s borderline meltdown. Despite this, the tension in his shoulders doesn’t ease up. His nerves frayed at the end. When Javi brings it up with Brian, his coach points at a handful of cameras fixing on him. “You’re European Champion now. It comes with the title.” Brian claps Javi on the shoulder. Javi can’t tell if it is pride or caution in Brian’s tone, not when each camera shutter suddenly amplifies now that he knows they are taking photos of _him_.

 

First at Europeans, fourth at the Grand Prix Final, he’s an honest to god contender for the World podium. The mere thought seems insane. _A World medal_. It dawns on him that he has never seen a World medal up close. Logic dictated that all ISU championship medals are identical but surely a World medal must be different somehow. He should have asked Yuzuru. Maybe Javi can still ask Yuzuru how to untie bootlaces while his fingers shake and hum at the _possibility_.

 

Javi has just finished washing up when he hears a distinctly female voice in the men’s locker room. He quickly puts on his clothes, intending on showing the lost lady her way out but then a distinctly Yuzuru voice holds him fast in the shower stall.

 

Peering through the shower curtain, what Javi sees is Kanako with a firm grip on Yuzuru’s arm, and Yuzuru looking like he would rather be anywhere but here. Undeterred by his lack of interest, Kanako presses on, firing away in Japanese. Yuzuru’s replies are clipped and impatient. The impatience morphs into confusion, even incredulity at what Kanako says next.

 

“Javi!” He almost slips on soapy water when Kanako shrills his name. At first, he thinks he has been spotted, but then Yuzuru folds his arms and repeats Javi’s name. They’re talking _about_ him _._ Javi scoots closer, his eyes straining to fill in the blanks his ears could not. Now more than ever, he regrets not knowing Japanese.

 

Kanako brings one fist to strike her palm before pointing at the window. Yuzuru flinches, hand raised immediately to shield his right eye. The memory of Yuzuru returning from Osaka with a band-aid over his brow flicks to the forefront of Javi’s mind. Yuzuru snaps back but stops in mid-reply when he looks over Kanako’s shoulder. His eyes find Javi’s.

 

 _Shit._ Javi steps back.

 

Too late, Kanako follows Yuzuru’s line of sight and marches toward the shower stall. She rips the curtain open, surprise and delight fill her face when she sees Javi huddled in the corner.

 

“Javi!” She sounds suspiciously thrilled for someone who has just discovered that she’s been spied on. “Good timing. Question for you.”

 

“—for me?”

 

She manhandles him out of the stall to where Yuzuru is standing.

 

“Javi, why!?” Yuzuru looks anguished as if Javi had personally betrayed him by being strong-armed into this conversation.

 

“Why angry, Yuzu, is Javi not _friend_?” Kanako brushes Yuzuru off with a careless wave of her hand. “Javi, does Javi date someone with secret?”

 

The question is so far out of left field that all Javi can manage is a mangled “huh?”

 

“Someone hides secret from you,” Kanako clarifies, watching him keenly.

 

“Like… illegal secret?” Kanako tilts her head at the new foreign word. Javi adds, “Bad, like the police gets you.”

 

She shakes her head. “No, not police bad.” She considers. “But still bad.”

 

“Kanako… ” Yuzuru warns.

 

“Is easy question!” Kanako persists.

 

 _Is it?_ Javi muses but decides to humor her anyway. “Well, I don’t know everything about my girlfriend. But if she has a secret and doesn’t want to share, I’ll respect that until she’s ready to tell me.”

 

A beat. Neither Japanese appears to have anticipated this answer. A flurry of emotions flickers through Yuzuru’s expression until he settles on a smug frown. Kanako looks torn between impressed and indignant.

 

Javi takes advantage of the pause to speak to Yuzuru. “Any reason why your teammate is interrogating my love life?”

 

“She’s nosy,” Yuzuru spits, as if nosy was a profanity.

 

“She sure is, can you help me get her off my back?”

 

Kanako recovers her wits at that moment. “Javi is so nice to girlfriend.” Her voice gains a saccharine edge. “Dai-chan say she is very pretty. Is skater?”

 

“Yeah, ice dancer.”

 

“Here to compete?”

 

“No, she’s taking a break this season. She’s here to cheer for me.”

 

“So nice!” Kanako claps her hands together. “Dating is support, girlfriend and boyfriend more important than skating.”

 

Her words sting in a way that he hasn’t expected them to, like discovering new cuts on his skin. Javi thinks back to his conversation with Cortney at his apartment. ‘ _Will we be fine then?’_ She had asked. He treasures living one day at a time, mindfully careless of the future beyond tomorrow. But that is no longer the case when it involves someone else. If Cortney did move to Prague, she would be closer to Madrid than Toronto, where he spends a majority of the year training. Their relationship is already unsteady as it is: laggy video calls, one-sided congratulatory texts, a dinner together every few months. Skating takes too much time and energy, too much love to portion for someone else.

 

Javi bristles. To his surprise, so does Yuzuru. He heatedly shouts at Kanako in Japanese.

 

“I don’t ask for me, I am helping you!” Kanako deflects just as fiercely. She thrusts her hand at Javi so quickly he thinks he is about to get punched, only for her pointed finger to stop short of his nose. “You can’t tell-”

 

Yuzuru swiftly cuts Kanako off in mid-rant. Javi catches a vaguely familiar Russian name—Gachinski?—in a barrage of Japanese. Whatever was said seemed to work; Kanako flushes a guilty red. She presses her lips together. Her hands twitch. The moment comes to a standstill. For an insane second Javi is afraid that she might slap her teammate. But then the moment ends, she simply scowls at Yuzuru one more time and stomps out of the room. The door slams shut behind her.

 

Javi waits for the echoing footsteps to fade before launching his own questions at Yuzuru. “What the hell was that all about?”

 

Yuzuru resolutely fixes his eyes at the door, away from where Javi can read him. “Nothing,” he mutters.

 

Javi clenches his jaw.

 

“That didn’t feel like nothing. I got dragged into that, don’t I deserve the right to know?”

 

“Not about Javi.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

Yuzuru gives a heaving sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t lie, not about Javi. About me.”

 

The memory of the tight corridor at the European Championships rushes forth, invasive questions at his expense to get to the real special boy of his team. First it was Florent, and now Yuzuru. Same old, same old. “Great, make it about yourself. Like the world doesn’t do that enough already,” Javi murmurs under his breath.

 

Yuzuru rounds on him. “What does that mean?”

 

“I should be the one asking that! What’s the matter with your friend? What’s the matter with _you_?”

 

“Me?” Yuzuru’s lip curls.

 

“Yes, you! You’ve been weird since we got here. I get it. I know you’re feeling stressed-”

 

“Javi don’t _get it_.” Teeth bared. “What does Javi know! Always number one in country. So easy. Javi don’t have to prove anything!”

 

That, coming from Yuzuru, _hurts_. Their walk on a seafoam path in Sendai, their pretend play at the Olympic testing rink. All their talks about dreams and ambitions. The Japanese skater should know better than anyone else how Javi feels unworthy of this lofty fantasy. Of recognition and medals to loop around his parents’ necks. It was less than an hour ago when his nerves sang in excitement at finally—his _seventh_ Worlds appearance—being seen as a contender. That precious young feeling.

 

Bitterness floods his mouth.

 

“ _I_ have it easy?! That’s fucking rich coming from you. You have one of the wealthiest federations in this sport to pamper your every need. Training? Travel? Doctors? My parents have to work multiple jobs and they don’t even get to watch me compete live! You have everything.” Poison leaves his lips before Javi can stop himself, “and you still can’t win an international championship. Some skater you are.”

 

Yuzuru recoils like he had been slapped. Javi hates how viciously good it feels to watch Yuzuru’s face crumple. His lips quiver once and exactly once before the hurt in his eyes turns flinty.

 

“Spain will be happy with ninth place like Nice.” Without so much a backward glance, Yuzuru squares his shoulders and walks away.

 

Javi’s trip back to the hotel is a red haze. He takes some pleasure in shoving past cameramen on his way to the shuttle bus, ruining their choice shots. Brian doesn’t comment on how his students camp out on opposite ends of the vehicle in stormy silence. Cortney escapes to sit next to David.

 

Once in the privacy of his room, Javi chucks his bag on the floor. Something cracks. He rips open the bag and digs around for the source of the noise but finds Kanako’s box instead. He stares at the arrow he had unintentionally packed.

 

_Is good luck._

 

Javi hurls the arrow at the wall. It snaps in two.

 

* * *

 

Single axel. A split-second hesitation. Seven points down the drain. It was Nice all over again.

 

Brian and David try to smother Javi with reassurance, but not a word reaches him. His mind is still replaying the sound of the audience’s devastating gasp like a corrupted file, each time the voices come out differently, from sympathetic to disappointed to gleeful. ‘That will teach him,’ the voices whisper. ‘He doesn’t even belong in the final group.’

 

“Please don’t, don’t say ‘there’s still the free’.” Javi preemptively holds a finger out at Cortney.

 

“... there’s still next season?” Javi groans. Cortney quickly adds, “Your short wasn’t even that bad!”

 

He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have next season, Cortney. Next season is the Olympics!”

 

“Don’t shout at me, I’m just trying to help,” she grumbles before walking off to give Javi some space.

 

Javi stews in his own funk long enough for the last group to take the ice, just in time to watch Yuzuru. Two and a half minutes later, Javi wishes he hadn’t.

 

In an ironic twist, the triple axel helped Yuzuru salvage a program that had completely spiraled out of control—with a fall against the boards no less. Yuzuru wilts as soon as the music ends. His lips quirk into a self-punishing smile. It stays as he bows to the kiss and cry camera, it stays as the score sentences him out of medal contention.

 

Later, as Javi prepares to leave the backstage area, he catches Yuzuru soldiering through an interview with a Japanese TV station. Yuzuru pauses every other minute to clear his throat, his cheeks splotchy and his eyes tellingly bright.

 

What was left of Javi’s resentment fizzles out; if nothing else, Javi is grateful for the freedom to lick his wounds in private.

 

* * *

 

[03/13 9:47pm] Yuzu: I am sorry

 

[03/13 9:50pm] Yuzu: There is white box in my big suitcase.

 

[03/13 9:51pm] Yuzu: Can you give to daisuke?

 

[03/13 9:52pm] Yuzu: Please

 

[03/13 9:52pm] Yuzu: I trust you.

 

[03/13 10:22pm] Javi: ok

 

[03/13 10:24pm] Javi: I’m sorry too

 

* * *

 

Yumi doesn’t ask Javi any questions. She opens the door and steps aside, gives him a tired smile before leaving the room.

 

Yuzuru’s suitcase is _stuffed_ ; any more and the seams would have split. Javi is immediately greeted by a mountain stack of Under Armour. He feels guilty messing up the neat folds as he digs deeper, but it gives him a chance to read the gold print shouting at him boldly on black.

 

_Your path lay in all 360 degrees_

_You’ve made it this far, be proud of it._

_Still further ahead._

_Conquer myself!!_

 

Underneath costume garment bags, he finds an inhaler, transdermal patches, athletic tape, painkillers, vitamins, nutritional powder, and pouches of unlabeled tablets. This catalog of medical aids and the foolhardy words seem mismatched yet oddly appropriate: ‘ _You’ve made it this far_ ’. A Japanese amulet falls out when he shifts a couple of gloves and toe socks. Red with gold characters, the stitches preciously crooked in a way only homemade gifts can be. He slips it back next to a first aid kit.

 

Deeper.

 

Monster Hunter game cartridges. A box of dry rice seasoning already opened and missing two packets. A physiology textbook. A cylindrical tea leaf container. Javi twists the cap open and sniffs at its contents. It smells light and crisp, reminiscent of coastal breeze. He pictures Yuzuru and his mother brewing a cup together to keep homesickness at bay.

 

Deeper.

 

Two black notebooks labeled ‘2012/2013’ with colorful tags poking out along the spine. Five headphone cases. A stack of tightly bound fan letters. He knows better than to unbound them but he does study the aged quality of the envelopes, edges yellowing from time and touch. Well worn and well loved. The front envelope dates back to mid-2011.

 

At the bottom.

 

Nesting in a bundle of pajamas is the aforementioned white box. It is shallow and fits in the palm of his hand like a seashell. Javi has seen many variations of it before, has had the fortune to hold some close to his breast. A medal case.

 

* * *

 

Daisuke takes one look at the case and grimaces.

 

“Please give back to him.”

 

“I’m not a carrier pigeon,” Javi quips. “Mind telling me what’s going on? Why is he giving you his medal?”

 

Daisuke hesitates as if the case pertained a moral dilemma. It is an hour to midnight. They are both dead tired. Javi, especially, having been refused answers all day. In no mood for niceties, he loudly taps his foot against the marble floor, waiting. Finally, Daisuke breaks. He snatches the case from Javi and reluctantly opens the lid. Out came white ribbon with a gold medal dangling at the end.

 

“From Japanese Nationals,” he explains. “Situation was… difficult. Yuzuru didn’t like how he won.”

 

“He thinks you should have won?”

 

Daisuke chews on his lip, opens his mouth, and shivers. He seems to realize only then that they are standing in a freezing cold hallway.

 

“Ah, how terrible of me. Please come in, we can talk over tea.”

 

“I mean, if you talk quickly—”

 

“Coffee?”

 

“—Sure.”

 

The instant coffee is bitter and scalding and intensely satisfying on a cold Canadian night. They settle across a table. The case sits between them, the medal absentmindedly toyed with in Daisuke’s hands. In the background, Takahito Mura softly snores away.

 

“Is alright. Takahito is heavy sleeper,” Daisuke assures. “And he doesn’t know English.”

 

For once, Javi isn’t the one left outside of the language barrier.

 

“Where did we leave off… ah, yes, Yuzu. Always so difficult.” Daisuke makes a face. “I hear that Kanako caused trouble. I am very sorry about that.”

 

“She did a little more than cause trouble.” The episode was so bizarre Javi has given up on making sense of it.

 

An exasperated smile from Daisuke. “I can imagine.” But then his lips are pressed thin. The medal in his grip stills. “About Yuzu. He avoids me. He probably… he thinks he failed.”

 

“At being the National Champion?”

 

Daisuke nods. His eyes slide down from Javi to the medal in hand. “Being National Champion is heavy. There is happiness and expectation. People see you like new person. Title is pride, is ticket to Worlds and Olympic Games. But you must pay back.” The corner of his mouth tightens, his eyes grim. “Did you see short program ranking? Mine and Yuzu’s.”

 

“You’re in fourth, right? And Yuzuru… ” Javi can’t find it in himself to finish the sentence.

 

Daisuke inhales deeply, as if it caused him great pain to voice the situation aloud. “We add to thirteen. Thirteen is maximum to get three spots. If one of us slips in the free… ” He squeezes his eyes shut. Refusing to continue that train of thought, he changes track. “In Torino we had one spot; by Vancouver we had three.”

 

“Thanks to a certain someone I bet.” Javi tries to lighten the mood.

 

To Javi’s surprise, Daisuke shakes his head. “No, I did little. In 2005, Honda-san got injured. I fought and I placed fifteen.” He winces, his head bowed in recollection. “Then I was injured in 2009. Takahiko and Nobu did all the work.”

 

Javi takes a sip of his coffee, uncaring that it has gone cold. “Must be nice to have teammates to rely on.” He hopes the slurring masks the jealousy in his voice.

 

“I am really lucky.” Daisuke agrees, a touch in awe of all that he has been blessed with. “Honda-san skated alone on world stage. I have strong friends with me. We work hard to show everyone the strength of Japan. That,” he slowly rolls the white ribbon around the medal, “is Champion’s work. Sano-san was first to win World medal. Honda-san paved way, my generation follow. Yuzu will push too.”

 

Javi stares at the man before him—the first Olympic medalist, World Champion, Grand Prix Final Champion of Japan. A trailblazer through and through. That meant…

 

“How popular was skating in Japan when you were… ” He flounders. “... my age?”

 

Daisuke tilts his head. “And you are?”

 

“Twenty-one.”

 

“Twenty-one, that was… 2007? Skating pick up after Nagano. I did Swan Lake that season, it was very popular. But back then…” He frowns in concentration, recalling, “stadium only fill half at Nationals. Top half completely empty.”

 

“Really?” The idea of a competition in Japan, the mecca of figure skating, struggling to turn a profit at their largest domestic event is mind-boggling.

 

“Really. It was different time. Before that, Nationals was in hockey rink. Although Shi-chan and Mao-chan made ladies popular fast.” There is the Team Japan pride once again, but then his words swiftly turn sour. “I skate for audience, not for score. Sometimes very discouraging.”

 

“Like what was the point if no one cared?”

 

Daisuke blinks. “Yes, I had same thought.” A tentative pause. “Empty rinks… they’re sad in any country, no?”

 

Javi supposes they are. His mother had always thought so. She would bring their entire extended family to cheer up a lifeless rink.

 

“Did your mom invite everyone to come watch?” Javi leans forward for the answer.

 

“Every time.” A fond chuckle. “My brothers come sometime. It was trouble for them but I was so happy.”

 

“Will they go watch you live in Sochi?”

 

A beat. The good humor on Daisuke’s face fades, not like a snuffed candle, but a stick of incense burned to its last inch. He looks far more tired than Javi has ever seen him. When Daisuke speaks again, his voice is ghostly light.

 

“I have such strong friends,” he ponders. “I am not sure if I can go to Sochi.”

 

Javi is stunned. Slack-jawed. Of course, the dangerous depth of Japanese male skating. The epiphany chills his core; trailblazer, living legend, Daisuke Takahashi will know as soon as the day of the free if the door to Sochi would slam shut on him. Javi fidgets in his seat, suddenly all too aware of his own privilege. His own ugly, peerless luck.

 

Fortunately, Daisuke doesn’t seem to notice Javi’s reaction, too lost in thoughts of his own.

 

“I won’t accept this.” Daisuke gently places the medal that started it all back into its case. “Please return it to Yuzu.”

 

“Easier said than done,” Javi grumbles. Getting Yuzuru to change his mind is akin to pulling teeth.

 

“He is stubborn.” Daisuke nods sympathetically. The look he gives Javi is too intent to be entirely friendly but it is not hostile either. “Good that I am also stubborn. Please pass message to him too.”

 

“I’m not your pigeon.”

 

“Ah, but I pay with coffee.”

 

Javi raises his hands in surrender. Daisuke lets out a bark of laughter. Behind them, Takahito groans and turns over.

 

* * *

 

Yumi is showing Javi how to measure the correct amount of tea leaves when the door opens. They look up. Yuzuru stares back at them from between a pair of crutches, his left foot lifted from the floor, a telltale bag of prescription medicine in one hand and a disposable mask in the other. Javi deduces Brian had taken Yuzuru out for a hospital visit. All three of them exchange measuring glances like a Mexican standoff until Yumi gets up from the table and walks over to her son. Then, in all her maternal grace, she pulls the tip of Yuzuru’s ear.

 

“ _Itai_!” Yuzuru yelps. Javi muffles a laugh behind his hand.

 

Javi watches the Hanyus exchange hushed words, occasionally gesturing to Javi or to Yuzuru’s left leg. Yuzuru pouts his way through the conversation. A pang tugs at his heart like a lost child; Javi knows a motherly scold when he sees one. Yumi finishes by clapping her son’s back, says, “apologize,” in surprisingly clear English, and leaves the room.

 

Yuzuru and Javi are alone.

 

Yuzuru makes the first move. He sets the crutches against the wall and hops on one foot to his bed, all the while pointedly refusing eye contact with Javi. He proceeds to shed his fifteen layers of winter wear down to a loose fit t-shirt. The clothes rustling keeps the silence from becoming total, but the tension between them only thickens. Like trying to breathe syrup. Javi chugs his remaining tea like a shot, wishing that Yumi’s brew could act as liquid courage for what he is about to say.

 

“You were right.”

 

Yuzuru doesn’t look at him, only opts to arrange pillows to cushion his knee.

 

“Spain would be happy with a ninth place.” The words had hurt precisely because they were not an insult. “They wouldn’t care.”

 

“Oh, Javi…” Yuzuru sighs terribly softly. “I mean to say Spain is really kind. They love Javi even if ninth.”

 

“And Japan would not?”

 

Pillows fall off the bed. Yuzuru drops his hands to his lap. He stares at them intently. Javi tries and fails to read the emotions flickering through his eyes: sadness? Anger? Fear? None of them quite fits what Javi sees. It is only when his bottom lip trembles that Javi can give it a name—guilt.

 

“They hate me,” Yuzuru whispers. The curve of his throat wobbles. “At, since, Nationals. I win but Dai-chan skated better.” He sniffs. “I promise I be better skater, be National Champion. But today I, I fail again. And now… ”

 

Javi’s stomach drops when he sees tears welling in Yuzuru’s eyes.

 

“Nobu-kun s-sent me text. He said, ‘it’s okay’.” Yuzuru chokes, fighting back a sob. “But it’s not okay. Nobu-kun wants to go to Sochi. Tatsuki, Takahiko too. S-so many back home. If I don’t get three spots,” his voice breaks, “I fail their dream.”

 

The tears are coming in earnest now. Yuzuru wraps his hand around his mouth but the sobs come through his shaking shoulders. Javi scrambles for Pooh—perching on top of a TV like a guardian—and closes the gap between them. When Javi offers Yuzuru a tissue, the Japanese takes the plush instead.

 

“You got the flu, you got injured. You are here on the back of one week of practice,” Javi reasons.

 

“Excuses.” Yuzuru mutters. He takes a tissue and discreetly blows his nose. “Daisuke has hurt knee too, he is fourth.”

 

“Let’s not compare injuries here, it doesn’t help.”

 

“He is true National Champion.”

 

Javi groans. “Somehow I doubt enduring pain is the measure of Champion here.”

 

“Different in Japan. Dai-chan is hurt. Mao-chan is hurt. We push on.” Yuzuru presses the heel of his hand into the corner of his eye. He repeats quietly, almost to himself, “We push on.”

 

Javi pulls the white medal case from his jacket. Yuzuru doesn’t look surprised in the least that Daisuke has refused his wish. “I supposed you’re right. I talked to Daisuke. I don’t think I’ll ever understand the way it is in Japan.”

 

Yuzuru looks directly at Javi for the first time since he had arrived at the room. “But not right that it is easy for Javi. Very wrong. I am sorry.” Javi takes in Yuzuru’s red-rimmed eyes, the trembling but determined line of his lips. Forgiveness comes readily to him.

 

“Apology accepted. We were both asses today.” Javi huffs. “You can prove me wrong and win an ISU championship later.”

 

Yuzuru smirks. It is the first genuinely and authentically Yuzuru Hanyu thing to have occurred since they set foot in London, and damn if Javi didn’t find it a beautiful sight.

 

Javi hands Yuzuru the medal case. Yuzuru glances at it miserably but accepts it with a heavy heart. Javi knows now is the time for Daisuke’s message.

 

“Daisuke asked me to tell you something.”

 

Yuzuru raises an eyebrow. He sits up straighter in anticipation.

 

“He said, ‘no matter what happens in the free,’” Javi taps the case in Yuzuru’s hand, “‘remember why you chase this to begin with.’”

 

Yuzuru closes his eyes and breathes in deep, clutching the case to his chest. When he looks up again, Javi is distinctly reminded of a moment from last year, in Nice, a certain boy promised to make Romeo fly and kept his word.

 

“I will.”

 

* * *

 

Figure skating is a sport of stories. Skaters are partial to operas, classics, originless tales ingrained in the collective unconscious. Larger than life narratives so universal in their appeal they are found in every culture, every time, every place. Like its players, the sport itself, too, appeared to possess a weakness for such high drama.

 

What else could explain the twists and turns of the free skate? Patrick Chan fell—twice—from a short program world record grace. Takahito Mura, the unexpecting third man of Team Japan, outshone Daisuke and bounced back from eleventh place. Denis Ten stood head and shoulders above every man and a hair away from the title. Yuzuru almost gave Brian an aneurysm by spraining his ankle in the six-minute warm-up, only to go all out, guns blazing, fighting for every jump no matter the wrong edge take off or underrotated landing. He earned himself not only a redemption and the highest technical score of the night, but also the coveted three Olympic spots for his country.

 

And then there was Javi, World bronze medalist.

 

High drama indeed.

 

Javi stands by the side, watches as Yuzuru gets called on a makeshift stage to receive his own bronze medal. A humble small medal that, given the circumstances, is one to be especially proud of. David had theatrically recounted the scene to Javi: with arms raised high (“defiantly against the heavens”), Yuzuru finished his performance with a cry and the audience erupted to their feet. The Japanese collapsed to his hands and knees, forehead pressed against the ice, face hidden from the rest of the world. Javi is glad that Yuzuru got to have a moment to himself, no matter how fleeting.

 

Yuzuru skips down the stage. When he is distracted by a congratulatory handshake, Javi strikes. He boldly lifts the medal from the victor’s neck and almost manages to wear it before Yuzuru wrestles it back. His teammate cradles the small medal to his cheek as if it was a rope of pearls.

 

They split up afterward. Yuzuru has media duties to attend to. Javi has his sleeve tugged by a Canadian volunteer asking him to sign the program booklet for her baby sister. “Cheryl’s a big fan, always asking if ‘pirate man’ was competing,” she laughs. Javi flushes at the thought of a six years old fan who remembers him from Vancouver. He is just waving her goodbye when he feels another tug on his sleeve.

 

“Hey Javi.”

 

“Oh,” he blinks. “Hey, Kanako.”

 

Kanako stands with her arms squarely by her sides, looking every bit the freshly scolded schoolgirl.

 

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes are fixed on the patch of carpet between them. Nevertheless, she sounds sincere. “Was very rude.”

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Javi is eager to put the bizarre incident behind him.

 

“Yuzuru is stupid. I try to help but too angry.” Kanako sheepishly continues. Javi wonders if Daisuke had strong-armed her into an apology.

 

“Really, it’s fine.” He takes her hand into a limp, awkward handshake. “See? All good.”

 

Kanako squints her eyes, looking at him like she thinks he is also stupid. To Javi’s relief, she finally changes the subject. “So. You remember The Ice? I gave you arrow.”

 

Uh-oh. “What about it?”

 

“Can I get back?”

 

Javi contemplates the merit of blaming it on Effie. But as Kanako has owned up to her temper, so should he. “I kinda, uh, broke it.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

 

“You _break_ it!?” Kanako gasps, her eyes blowing wide.

 

Javi splutters. “I didn’t mean to! I can, uh, I can pay you back!”

 

“No! Have you… Yuzu… ” Kanako struggles to word her thoughts for Javi. She wildly flings her hands back and forth, mumbling frantically in a mix of English and Japanese. “ _Eto, nanteiu_ … you, do you see… change! Did Yuzuru change?”

 

Javi stands dumbfounded. “Change? What kind of change are we talking about here?”

 

Kanako shakes her fists and squeaks out in mousey frustration. She whips around to scan the crowds. Then, like a laser-guided missile, she zooms toward Yuzuru who is bowing to ISU officials across the room. Javi watches in fascination as Kanako pulls him into a conspiratorial huddle. She talks and gestures animatedly. Yuzuru frowns, obviously not sharing her enthusiasm. He walks away from her when she starts flapping her arms like a giant bird. His eyes light up when he sees Javi.

 

“Do I want to know what that was about?” Javi asks once Yuzuru has successfully escaped to his side.

 

“Just talk.” Yuzuru hesitates. “Did Kana say something?”

 

“Nothing important,” Javi answers, hastening to move away from discussing the fact he sucks at taking care of gifts. “Anyway, should we go find Brian? He probably wants to debrief.”

 

Yuzuru nods. Brian can usually be spotted by the hotel bar after a competition. They navigate through the crowds and out of the auditorium. Javi confesses that he only vaguely remembers the way to their shuttle bus. Yuzuru confidently replies that he doesn’t remember it at all. They set off on an adventure of long, twisted hallways in which Javi leads, Yuzuru follows and uses Javi as a shield to avoid asking directions from scary English-speakers.

 

They are the first to arrive at the bus stop. The shuttle is completely empty barring the driver, who lazily waves at them with his sandwich. Javi collapses into a chair. He is just about to dig his backpack for his phone when Yuzuru flops down right beside him.

 

“Javi.”

 

“Yuzu.”

 

Yuzuru sinks into his seat.

 

“I’m tired.”

 

Javi glances at the small medal still hanging from Yuzuru’s neck. His eyes then climb to the pallor on Yuzuru’s cheeks. A knee and an ankle, Yuzuru will have to go through several intense weeks of physical therapy once he flies back to Toronto. All for a medal barely bigger than the pad of his thumb.

 

Javi loops his hand around Yuzuru’s neck and brings the familiar mop of hair to rest on his shoulder.

 

“Then sleep. It’s a long ride.”

 

Yuzuru goes stiff for a moment before relaxing. They remain that way for a while, listening to the engine’s low rumbles. The quiet chatter from bypassers outside. Wind whistling through greening leaves. Almost spring. A stillness settles around them like a blanket.

 

And thus the season has come to an end. They walk away from it as world medalists and history makers. These titles will follow them to next season, to weigh them down or lift them up or whatever else fate decides. An Olympic season is never one to be predicted. Javi thinks back to the way Yuzuru and Daisuke have carried their country to the finish line. He wonders if he could do the same for Spain, to skate in its colors and smile graciously in its name. For all the trouble and grief representing a ghost federation has brought him, he is at least allowed to skate as Javier Fernández. Not Madrid’s hope or Spain’s chance for glory. Just Javi.

 

Would it all change next year? Javi’s mouth goes dry at the thought.

 

Yuzuru stirs. Apparently taking Javi’s suggestion seriously, he squirms around to find a comfortable angle on Javi’s shoulder. Javi nudges Yuzuru away, takes off his coat, and hand it to Yuzuru to be used as a cushion.

 

“Javi not cold?”

 

“Nope. I’m Spanish.”

 

Yuzuru giggles. He takes the coat and folds it with the dedication and care Javi’s stinking old coat doesn’t really deserve. Yuzuru seems far away. Pale fingers thoughtfully running through the fabric.

 

“Kana is wrong,” Yuzuru says suddenly.

 

Javi turns, not sure if he had heard the other correctly. “Huh?”

 

“Nothing.” Yuzuru stuffs the bundle between the crook of Javi’s neck and buries his face in it.

 

Yuzuru falls asleep quickly after that. Even as people start to board the bus, Javi tunes them out in favor of the sound of Yuzuru’s breathing. Out and in. Deep and even. Javi closes his eyes and banishes all thoughts of tomorrow. Out and in. Now and only now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**
> 
> [1] 2013 European Championships (Zagreb, Croatia) - Following a mishap where Javi's skates were lost in transit and cost him practice time, Javi went on to skate a solid short and a brilliant free that netted him the second highest score recorded in men's singles at the time and clinched Spain's first European title in figure skating. He received his first major recognition from Spain, including a signed letter from the King of Spain as well as exclusive box seats at a Real Madrid match.  
> Recommended skates: Javi's [SP](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qMBS-ZP1zvo) & [FS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BJz8aKgYmb4); Florent's [SP](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8dnqVQJvnvw) & [FS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZIWgh8meGWM&t)
> 
> Javi was also interviewed by [Japanese media](http://yuzuwalkways.tumblr.com/post/117547808175/javis=message-to-yuzuru-after-javi-won-european) there.
> 
> Check out the small medal ceremony- it is a [hoot](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qMBS-ZP1zvo) ;)
> 
> [2] Cortney Mansour: Canadian ice dancer and Javi's girlfriend. She competed with Daryn Zhunussov for Kazakhstan from 2011-2012. After their split, Cortney would go on to compete with Michal Češka for the Czech Republic after a tryout in Europe in 2013.
> 
> [3] 2013 Four Continents Championships (Osaka, Japan) - Yuzuru injured his eye (fan reports indicate door collision) before the free, where several critical jump errors cost him the title. Yuzuru collects his second 4CC silver. A hot mess of a competition for the men. Unless you're Kevin Reynolds.
> 
> [4] 2013 World Championships (London, Canada) - a high-pressure cooker of a competition with Olympic spots on the line. Yuzuru, in typical peaking pattern, arrived in very poor physical condition. He caught a nasty bout of flu right after Four Continents and lost 10 days of practice; he returned to the ice by the end of February. While Brian was away for Junior Worlds, Yuzuru, anxious to make up for lost practice time, overtrained and injured his left knee, which forced him to rest for another 7 days. He returned to the ice by March 6th, exactly 1 week before Worlds.
> 
> At Worlds he had a disastrous short program: two falls + no completed combination jump left him in 9th place. Daisuke Takahashi took 4th in the short program; the future for three Olympic spots for Japan looked tenuous then (they needed a combined placement of at least 13 to secure three spots).
> 
> Yuzuru was on painkillers the whole time; because the anesthetic effects would compromise the quality of his skating, so he took just enough to reduce the pain to tolerable levels.
> 
> During the six-minute warm-up before the free, Yuzuru resprained his right ankle on a quad sal attempt. :O Against all odds, he managed [this fight of a skate](https://youtu.be/2FSpMzriUBo?list=LLhaA198OVpncUYo2MDFp0Bw&t=983). He placed 3rd in the free and 4th overall. Together with Daisuke (also battling a serious knee injury at the time) who finished 6th, they secured the three Olympic spots for Japan.
> 
> Javi captures bronze (7th in the short, 4th in the free) behind Patrick Chan and Denis Ten, making history as the first Spanish skater to medal at Worlds. Denis Ten also makes history as Kazakhstan's first Worlds medalist in figure skating. A great day for small federation countries!
> 
> Recommended skates: Daisuke's [SP](https://youtu.be/r6sTjXk4ijg?t=1562), Patrick's [SP](https://youtu.be/r6sTjXk4ijg?t=1941), Denis's [SP](https://youtu.be/r6sTjXk4ijg?t=1188) & FS, and of course, SuperJavi's [debut](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Wqa6g6E0WQ&t).
> 
> A must watch is the [small medal ceremony](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XiLzxxWONec&t).
> 
> [5] A bit of figure skating history in Japan. It wasn't so long ago that the seats at _Nationals_ were [barely half full during the men's event](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IU3XHnd5Lo0). Ladies was the only popular discipline then. Takeshi Honda ended a 25-year medal drought for the men by winning the first Worlds medal in Nagano since Minoru Sano's medal in 1977. Daisuke Takahashi spearheaded the rise in popularity of Japanese men's figure skating, achieving international success and debunking the stereotype that Asian men lacked expression on the ice. Together with Nobunari Oda and Takahiko Kozuka, he ushered in a "golden age" of figure skating, a legacy that has been continued by skaters of the generations that followed.


	23. Lluvia y azafrán (Rain and saffron)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Javi receives two late night visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta, [SweetSalt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSalt/pseuds/SweetSalt), for making me watch x number of cooking videos on Youtube to add some much-needed flavor to this chapter. You are the bedrock to my flailing, the Javi to my kitchen. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did!
> 
> Check out my tumblr @[fieryrondo](https://fieryrondo.tumblr.com) for sneak peeks, fic updates and wholesome fs content. Askbox open for anons who don't want to post here.
> 
> Please enjoy!

Half past midnight, Javi wakes up to a mouthful of cat and his phone beeping. He huffs Effie away from his face, much to her mewing protest, and blindly scrambles for his phone. The sky is a grainy static black. He flounders in his sheets until his elbow brushes a button. Light punches through the room. Javi endures it, squinting at the text messages. His heart picks up. He swallows. Maybe, this time, it will finally be his equipment specialist, so excited with a breakthrough that he has forgotten the time, that at last he has found a solution to—

 

It’s Cortney.

 

Javi tosses the phone away, plunging the room in darkness again. He flops onto his stomach and buries his face into a pillow. Effie meows for food beside him. Javi pushes her away. Not now.

 

The boots. _The boots_. He has been skating for sixteen years and not once had he ever had boot issues. Until now. The Olympic season. Javi’s no stranger to getting the short end of the stick, but here the timing feels utterly cruel. He doesn’t do anything differently, only gets them fitted and heat molded from a supplier he trusts. Yet they pinch and poke and bite at his ankles until his skin breaks. His heels rubbed raw and red. He hobbles. He chokes. The blades never run how he wants.

 

As such, his skating suffers. Jumps become a trust exercise with no one in the room to catch him. His feet were no longer his own, his nerves knotted and stitched with someone else’s—a Frankenstein’s monster. It’s a terrifying thought for any athlete to no longer know their own body. His quad success rate drops to a fifth of what it used to be. A _fifth_. A shocking fifth-place finish at NHK Trophy. A disappointing third at Rostelecom Cup. The nail in the coffin that grounded him in Toronto in December, left behind to watch the Grand Prix Final from his apartment instead of rinkside, all the while Yuzuru broke yet _another_ world record and pushed himself as the favorite for the Olympic title.

 

 _It’s not fair._ Javi had thought then and he thinks now. He curls into himself. Hand reached down to carefully touch the tender skin and healing blisters on his heel. Brian had gently assured him that boot issues were almost always temporary. At what was likely no small emotional cost, he even spoke of Yuna, the medals and records she achieved despite the off-centered blades that had plagued her teenage years. But Javi doesn’t feel like Yuna Kim. He feels stuck, sunken, and more than slightly hungover.

 

And hungry. Very very hungry. His stomach growls.

 

He ignores it.

 

Effie growls. She slaps a paw in his face.

 

“Alright!” Javi shoves the blanket aside. Effie hops down from the bed and pads out of the room. Needy little thing, and he has spoiled her rotten, but she does provide a much-needed distraction from his self-wallowing. Javi slowly peels himself from the bed. Chill jolts up his spine the moment his feet touch the floor. No wonder Effie is so pissy; he had neglected to turn on the heat.

 

Then, a clap of thunder. So loud and close Javi’s teeth hurt. A feline shriek and scraping of chair from the living room. Something falls over. Javi staggers to the bedroom window and throws back the curtains.

 

Outside, a downpour thick enough to smear the Toronto cityscape in a slurry of gray, leaving behind the only shadowy remnants of high rise buildings.

 

And wings.

 

Wings. White. Big. Fluttering.

 

Then nothing. Only rain.

 

Javi blinks. He squints, straining to see past the fat water droplets beating against the glass. A few seconds pass. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose. Hangovers sure do things to people.

 

Another distressed squeal summons Javi to the living room. Getting on his elbows and knees, he makes kissy noises to coax Effie from under the couch. She hardly pays attention to him though, preferring to eye the living room window as if she expected something to jump at her. Javi considers luring her out with a treat.

 

Shadow shifts at the corner of his eye. Javi turns.

 

There, perching precariously on top of his air conditioning unit, is a swan.

 

Javi gapes.

 

The swan stares back.

 

It looks as if it had come straight out of a picture book. Feathers so white they almost glow against the black sky. The bird tilts its head to one side, eerily human-like, before it majestically spreads its wings and waggles rainwater loose. The sound snaps Javi from his trance.

 

A swan. A swan. What is he supposed to do with a swan? Should he ignore it? Chase it away? Call animal control? Was it even real?

 

As if sensing his disbelief, the swan honks, confirming its very physical presence.

 

Effie chooses that moment to act. She dashes from under the couch and smacks her paw against the glass. The bird squawks. Thus commences a solid, surreal minute in which the two animals hiss and pick at each other, separated by a barrier, while Javi plays the world’s worst referee by standing there and doing absolutely nothing.

 

The fight seems to last an eternity until another lightning strikes. Javi jumps, Effie jumps, the swan jumps—and slips right off the tiny air conditioning unit.

 

Javi yelps. He rushes to the window. His vision suddenly filled with a pair of wings unfolding, its span so large it eclipses what little citylight there is. A blink later, the swan’s off into the air. Javi watches the white bird become a white speck that eventually gets swallowed by clouds and rain.

 

Javi opens and closes his mouth. When his voice works again, all that he can say is, “...well that just happened.”

 

Effie meows in response.

 

Javi looks around his apartment, then his hands, then his feet; he has completely forgotten what he was doing earlier. It’s only when Effie starts rubbing against his leg that he remembers. Right, food. To make it up to her, he forgoes dry cat food in favor of an old can of tuna. Effie seemingly pardons him of all crimes the moment he pops the lid open.

 

He’s in the middle of absentmindedly scratching the back of Effie’s ears, watching her eat, musing about the swan, when he hears a timid knock at the door. Javi glances at the clock—almost one in the morning.

 

His list of possible visitors at this hour is rightfully short. It starts with ‘Cortney made an emergency trip from Prague,’ followed closely by ‘a serial killer.’ Down somewhere near the bottom is ‘Yuzuru sopping wet like a half-drowned cat’ and yet that is exactly who Javi sees when he looks through the peephole.

 

“Jesus, Yuzu!” Javi swings the door open. “What the hell happened?”

 

Yuzuru gives him a sheepish smile, not that it fools anyone. He paints a miserable picture: bleary-eyed, his bangs plastered to his forehead like sea kelp, skin wan and translucent in the lamplight. A puddle forms under his dripping t-shirt and pajama pants. His voice forces its way out from between painfully clacking teeth. “W-w-rong st-op.” The tail end of his voice curls like a question mark. “Rain... really, really, ha-rd.” Wheezing. “Can I stay?”

 

Javi pulls Yuzuru into his apartment and shuts the door behind them. Yuzuru starts at the contact as if the mere warmth of Javi’s hand burns him.

 

“Bathroom’s first door on the left. I’ll get you some dry towels. Now, march,” Javi orders. One hand pointing, the other rests on his hip.

 

Yuzuru looks down at his socks. “But wet.”

 

“I’ll lend you my clothes. March!” Javi herds Yuzuru into the bathroom. The Japanese makes weak noises of protest before caving in with a small, “sorry to bother.”

 

The bathroom door clicks shut. A pause, a still stretch of breath. Javi feels so absurdly lost it almost knocks him off his feet. First the swan, and now his rinkmate—who has long established to be a skater first and a human being second—is in his flat, as if he was just any other friend, here to crash on Javi’s couch. The shower tap begins to run, drawing him to take a good long look around. Javi swears; his flat is a disgrace. Take-out containers piled up on the sofa, hamper overflowing with dirty laundry, socks littered around the room at strategic points for highest slipping potential. His mother would weep.

 

Rolling up his sleeves, Javi sets off to work. Crusty bowls and plates are banished to the kitchen sink. Empty beer cans swiftly crushed and tossed with the rest of the garbage. For good measure, Javi even runs a clean towel through the dryer. Yuzuru makes a surprised noise at the steaming hot towel Javi passes to him. Let it not be said that Javier Fernández was a bad host.

 

Picking out clothes for Yuzuru, however, proves to be a challenge. Javi stares deep into his closet for a divine inspiration. He hovers his hand over silly t-shirts, ratty pajamas, plain but personal articles of clothing. The realization that he can make Yuzuru wear whatever he wants weighs on him like a newfound superpower. In the end, he goes for string tie pants and a Real Madrid shirt. Yuzuru, ever courteous, accepts them with murmured thanks. He does frown at the big ‘Emirates’ plastered across the shirt, as if he disapproved of having any airline other than ANA on his body.

 

Yuzuru has strands of wet hair that stick up like antennae. Javi itches to pat them down. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he decides that the best course of action is to keep busy.

 

“You hungry?”

 

Yuzuru’s stomach growls. His subsequent blush spreads like a drop of blood in a bowl of milk.

 

“Well you’re in luck.” Javi chuckles, striding to the kitchen. “I don’t have any leftovers to reheat so you’ll get something fresh, let me see… ”

 

‘Fresh’ turns out to be a relative term. Javi pokes his head into his fridge and does a quick survey: a couple of old bell peppers, a misshapen tomato, two suspicious-looking lemons, a tub of chicken stock, and—god bless—a defrosted chicken thigh. He fares slightly worse with the freezer, where he only finds a bag of rock-hard shrimp. A dish forming in his mind, he moves on to the cupboards. He knows from the moment he spots rice and a vial of saffron that there is no time better than now, with company and a raging storm outside, for a pan of steaming hot paella.

 

“Wish we had squid and clams… a rabbit… some green beans too, but I guess these will do,” Javi mumbles. He turns on the stove and leaves a pan to pre-heat. Yuzuru’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when he sees Javi throwing a palmful of salt into the pan. “Trust me, you gonna need all that salt.” Javi proceeds by splashing in extra virgin olive oil—a gift from his mother, so concerned that her baby will forget the taste of home. The salt crackles.

 

Yuzuru unhappily prods a bell pepper. “This not good.”

 

“Be a big boy and eat your veggies.” The chicken thigh sizzles when it hits the pan. Javi forgoes the spatula and moves it around with his fingers. Yuzuru squawks. Javi laughs, light and easy. “Relax! I’m just touching the chicken, I’m not swirling my thumb in hot oil. You can’t cook Spanish food scared.” He wipes his hands on a kitchen towel. “Pass me a knife and a board?”

 

From the timid way Yuzuru holds the knife, Javi instantly deduces that the Japanese skater cannot be trusted with it. After giving the knife a quick rinse in the sink, Javi preps the vegetables. He smashes and finely chops two cloves of garlic, adds them to the pan. He cores the bell peppers (Yuzuru crinkles his nose) and roughly chops them along with the tomato, setting them aside. Javi can almost feel his mother tapping his shoulder to check on the chicken. He does just that: flipping them over, he’s pleased by the golden brown skin that greets him. Oil sizzles and jumps onto his forearm but he pays no mind. Next is smoked paprika, oregano, red pepper flakes, lemon zest. Not all of them are traditionally Spanish but all are traditionally Fernández. Tomato and bell peppers go in. He gives them a quick stir.

 

“Green beans!” Javi almost jumps at Yuzuru’s sudden shout. He lowers the heat to medium and turns to find Yuzuru, who has unearthed the frozen peas, and holds the bag triumphantly over his head.

 

“That’s not… really the same, I was thinking of broad beans… ” Javi strokes his chin, thinking it through, but Yuzuru’s obvious delight at being useful in the kitchen wins him over. “Eh, why not, throw them in.”

 

Yuzuru preens. A sprinkle of green tumbles into the deep red pan. Javi pours in the chicken stock, the steam bursting forth makes his mouth water. He then reaches for the vial of saffron with such uncharacteristic care that even Yuzuru notices.

 

“What’s that?” Yuzuru points.

 

Javi tips out exactly five strands of saffron. Yuzuru stares at him as if he was a madman. “Spanish gold,” Javi explains.

 

“No, it’s red.”

 

Javi lightly knocks the back of Yuzuru’s head.

 

“Yes, genius. But smell it.”

 

Yuzuru leans into Javi’s cupped palm. His nose wrinkles at the scent—thickly sweet and fragrant, like smoked honey. “This tastes good?”

 

Javi gestures for Yuzuru to come in closer. With the flourish of a magician pulling a handkerchief from his hat, Javi swirls the saffron into the pan. Yuzuru draws a small breath as the broth ripples into deep gold. “ _Uwa…_ ”

 

Continuing his charade, Javi opens a bag of rice with a knife, earning him another impressed look. Rice rains into the broth; they are both hungry athletes, so Javi pours enough to choke the pan. The heat gets turned up to the highest setting and they are set for a wait: ten minutes on high, six minutes on medium, five minutes on low, and five minutes to rest.

 

Javi tries to keep up the image of a competent cook by making a tin foil pan lid for the resting time early on. Yuzuru, however, has another plan. They end up sitting, shoulder to shoulder, on the kitchen floor, backs against the oven, making tin foil origami cranes.

 

“So have you told your mom yet that you’re here?” Javi casually asks while trying to follow Yuzuru’s flying fingers. “Wait wait wait, this corner goes where?”

 

“Go to this line.” Yuzuru takes hold of Javi’s hand and guides him there. “Mother is sleeping. She know.” He uses his nail to press out creases, his tongue sticking out in concentration.

 

“She knows? You mean you left her a note?”

 

A pause. Yuzuru tilts his head and considers. “Yes. Note,” he says in a tone that tells Javi it was definitely not a note, but Javi decides not to push.

 

Javi groans when his thumb slips, accidentally crushing what is supposed to be a wing. “What were you doing out so late anyway?” He balls up his third attempt at a crane and tosses it in a random direction. To their surprise, a loud yowl.

 

“Javi hit cat,” Yuzuru unhelpfully points out.

 

“Yes, captain obvious, I realized.” They watch Effie grumpily stalk towards them, her fur bristling on end. Javi lets her give his big toe a punishing bite. “Ouch, I deserve that.”

 

Yuzuru smiles, a tad sheepish. “Sorry I scare you,” he says to Effie. She sniffs at him before padding away.

 

“It wasn’t you who—and you still haven’t answered me!” Javi pokes Yuzuru in the chest, hard enough that he yelps and drops his crane. “It’s one in the morning, what were you doing out in the storm?”

 

Yuzuru swats Javi’s finger away, pouting. “I am captain. I don’t need tell.”

 

Javi can’t help but bark a laugh at that. “That’s not what captain obvious means and you know it!”

 

A nose-crinkling smile. But then Yuzuru turns away, looking down at his crane on the floor. A shadow falls over and Javi can’t see his eyes clearly, only the lines between his furrowing brows. Yuzuru raises a hand to his temple.

 

“Noisy here,” tap tap. “I have to… ” He chews on his lip. “... get away.”

 

Ah. “...I see,” Javi murmurs.

 

Their shoulders are touching but Javi feels the drum of rain trickling down in between, sharp and undeniable—their differences. For Yuzuru, it has been a season marked by high strung nerves and camera lenses, multiplying, inching ever closer. A microscopic scrutiny. Crescendoing chaos. Yuzuru has never uttered a word against the criticisms heaped on him, his head bowed, his shoulders stubbornly squared. But after the battles of world records against Patrick and the constant interrogation of his program layouts and reporters asking him to smile for another, _just one more photo, please look this way,_ yeah, Javi can see the appeal of running away on a night like this. To have the storm drown sound into sense.

 

Meanwhile, Javi’s head has had nothing but air—the stale, musty smell of closed windows and unwashed sheets. White dust suspended in a dark room. No progression. No movement.

 

Javi absently strokes his right heel.

 

In his pocket, his phone vibrates. A text message. Maybe Cortney, maybe his equipment specialist. Javi twitches and reaches for it but Yuzuru places a hand over his, fingers cradled to squeeze.

 

“It will stop hurting.”

 

Yuzuru’s hand is soft, deceptively so. One would imagine an easy life behind this hand; no labor, no hardship. But Yuzuru knows pain like no one else, knows it intimately, from his legs to his lungs. So to have Yuzuru of all people say this makes breathing a little easier.

 

“Thanks.” Javi gently squeezes the hand back, their fingers laced together. “Let’s check on the paella.”

 

The paella is almost ready. The broth and fat have reduced and sunken below the rice, bubbling from the bottom. Javi can already smell the caramelized crust forming underneath. The peas have browned, the rice a saffron yellow. He throws in the last ingredient—three withered sprigs of once green rosemary. Then the heat is turned off, the pan covered with tin foil, left alone to rest for five minutes.

 

Yuzuru leans on the kitchen counter in an Effie-like manner. “Wait so long,” he whines.

 

“Slackers can’t complain,” Javi chides, the same way his mother used to. Although he knows he isn’t being fair; he hadn’t let Yuzuru do anything in fear of Yuzuru slicing a vein open on a peeler. “Why don’t you go make us drinks? There should be stuff in the right cupboard.”

 

“What drink?” Yuzuru perks up.

 

“Anything, your call.”

 

They spend the last five minutes in different corners. Javi manages to fold something that vaguely resembles an avian creature while Yuzuru messes around with the settings on Javi’s microwave. A companionable quiet settles between them, broken only by the rumble of thunder, an intermittent and distant refrain. Echoing. Somewhere far away, in the rain and the cold, a pair of misshapen boots clamors for his attention, the weight of a nation etched in red and gold. But not here, where Yuzuru is wearing an oversized Real Madrid jersey and the floor is finally warm under Javi’s bare feet. Steam pillows his face when Javi lifts the tin foil from the pan.

 

And he’s in his house, his kitchen, in Spain. A well worn and well lived place, so cramped he can feel Laura’s shoulder bumping his own back. Vigorously she whisks together sugar and eggs and cream cheese for an after-dinner _tarta de queso_. Sunlight filters through the sheer curtain, mingled with the scent of his mother’s favorite fabric softener. From the living room, the sound of his father watching a football match, cheers and chants he knows by heart. Mixed in is Pablo Alboran’s soulful guitar, playing from a stuttering radio half Javi’s age. The paella is golden. The room is golden. The taste of summer, citrusy and warm on his lips. Javi picks off the rosemary, fresh picked green, and digs in with a serving spoon, edge first, where the tasty crust is. Tumbling onto his favorite plate are seared chicken and rabbit, curled octopus and red prawns, Spanish short grain rice and broad beans. He calls for his mother to have the first taste.

 

And then he’s back, in his flat, his kitchen, in Toronto. It is in the middle of the night, streetlight ripples with rain on the roof. There are soft fingers on his cheek—Yuzuru’s. The Japanese skater wears a Real Madrid jersey and a sad smile, bitter with understanding, as he wipes the corner of Javi’s eye.

 

There is no Laura, no sunlight, no football playing in the background.

 

His feet ache.

 

But here is his friend and two steaming mugs. The air tastes of saffron regardless.

 

They curl up on a sofa and eat straight from the pan, forks clinking every now and then when they fight over a particularly juicy-looking piece of chicken. The rice is starchy and under seasoned, the peas don’t add much to the dish, but every mouthful warms Javi from head to toe, much more effectively than Yuzuru’s attempt at a hot drink.

 

“Javi say anything okay,” Yuzuru sheepishly murmurs into his mug. In hindsight Javi really should have known better. Of course, Yuzuru would have seen the one familiar ingredient in the cupboard and gone for it. As it turns out though, protein shakes don’t play nicely with heat. Javi tries to be supportive even as his stomach churns at the blobs of congealed protein powder floating in his mug. He chugs the whole thing down between bites, it’s gritty but still palatable.

 

Late night television runs in the background. Javi mindlessly flips through the channels while Yuzuru occasionally comments on his choices. A hockey match. A bit of local news programming. A nature documentary about jellyfish. Javi quickly changes the channel when he sees a flash of the Olympic rings, only to be treated with the surreal experience of a high definition McDonald’s commercial starring Patrick.

 

“I hope the money was good,” Javi chuckles.

 

“Dai-chan also did, he was… letter… letter man, he takes letter and… ” Yuzuru waves his fork around as if he was trying to summon the rest of the sentence with a wand.

 

“You mean, a mailman?” Javi guesses, smiling at the mental image of Daisuke Takahashi, skater extraordinaire, donning a postal uniform and delivering fan mail on a bicycle.

 

Yuzuru nods. “Mailman!” Then, nonchalantly, he adds, “Mao-chan sell bathroom paper.”

 

Javi inhales a mouthful of protein shake. Yuzuru kindly rubs his back while Javi tries to cough his lungs clean.

 

The next channel fills the apartment with the familiar notes of Tchaikovsky. Yuzuru draws a sharp breath. Javi squints at an animated Barbie doll morphing into a swan.

 

“I don’t remember there being a unicorn in Swan Lake.” Javi thinks back. “Hey, speaking of swans, you wouldn’t believe what just happened today—”

 

Yuzuru snatches the remote and changes the channel. A woman crawls out of a television.

 

“L-e-t’s not.” Javi puts his foot down and reclaims the remote. Yuzuru shudders in agreement.

 

In the end, they settle on Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. But with his belly full and eyelids heavy, Javi has trouble following the splashy colors and talking furniture on the screen. He sinks into the couch, content to watch Yuzuru bobbing along to musical numbers out of the corner of his eye. Occasionally, Yuzuru’s voice rises above the characters’ chatter; he is humming, impressively off key. Javi wonders how Yuzuru hits any notes in his programs at all. There is the iconic yellow dress that Javi has seen worn by novice girls. A climactic battle amidst a storm, lightning flashes that he isn’t sure are real or imagined. The heroine weeps the world’s most conveniently timed love confession and all is well again. By the time Beast returns to his uglier human form and Javi starts to see jellyfish floating across the screen, he knows it’s time to call it a night.

 

Javi turns to ask Yuzuru if he’d like a blanket, but Yuzuru is already fast asleep. His lanky limbs sprawl inelegantly, his face pressed up against a throw pillow. Javi huffs. He turns off the television, submerging the room in quiet night. But not quite silent. Javi leaves the couch with a slight spring in his step, as if the warm food and warm words had seeped into the floor and nourished him with strength. He tidies up and retrieves a spare blanket from his bedroom. Yuzuru’s breathing has deepened by the time Javi unfolds the blanket over him. Javi is glad; even in the dark, he can make out the folds and deep circles underneath Yuzuru’s eyes. Without thinking much about it, Javi reaches down and flicks a tuft of hair out of Yuzuru’s relaxed face.

 

Suddenly, Javi’s phone rings. He curses, scrambling to pick it up, but the call ends seconds after. Javi squints at the bright screen. The caller is Yuzuru. He turns to check. Yep, still dead to the world and definitely incapable of making a phone call. Come to think of it, Javi hadn’t seen Yuzuru using his phone at all. His suspicion is confirmed when Javi checks his messages and finds fourteen texts from Yuzuru’s number.

 

[01/06 00:54am] Hello Javi. This is Yumi.

 

[01/06 00:54am] Do you have Yuzuru?

 

[01/06 01:09am] Is Yuzuru OK?

 

[01/06 01:15am] Does Yuzuru stay with you?

 

[01/06 01:16am] Rain very bad.

 

[01/06 01:48am] Rain stop. But time is very late. Is Yuzuru sleep?

 

Javi sighs, making a mental note to kick Yuzuru’s ass later for causing his mother so much worry. He snaps a grainy photo of Yuzuru with pillow crease on one cheek and sends it to Yumi. The reply is immediate.

 

[01/06 02:01am] Thank you.

 

Javi walks over to the living room window. He opens it and sticks his face outside. The rain has indeed stopped, streetlight reflects and pools in pavement cracks, running through the road in blue and silver. There is no wind. The air crisp like brittle brown leaves. This snowless night has been warm, but it is winter for sure. Javi exhales. He watches his breath fog and fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real World Parallel Footnotes**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [1] _Boot Problems_ : A strong start at the 2013 Japan Open (his first appearance there) nosedived into an uncharacteristically lackluster season for Javi. Boot problems plagued him and dramatically affected his jump consistency. He finished in fifth at NHK Trophy and third at Rostelecom Cup, which did not net him enough points to qualify for the Grand Prix Final.
> 
> [2] _From Silver to Champion_ : In contrast to Javi's slump, Yuzuru gained much momentum in the months leading up to Sochi. He faced off against reigning World Champion Patrick Chan three times on the GP circuit: at Skate Canada, at Trophée Éric Bompard and the Grand Prix Final where he took his first GPF title in front of a home crowd. This victory cemented Yuzuru's status as a co-favorite contender for the Olympic title.
> 
> [3] 2013-14 Japanese Nationals: a competition that determined the skaters who would get the coveted ticket to Sochi. Japan had five men all capable of making the Olympic podium and only three spots. Welp. :O Click [here](https://twitter.com/ceder1207/status/902910052297613316) for the intense six-way split screen during the final group warm up (+ for baby Shoma).
> 
> So naturally, the ensuing heartbreak eclipsed the joy. There were many wonderful skates, which I'll also link below. In the end, Yuzuru, Tatsuki, and Daisuke were named for the Sochi team.
> 
> _Recommended Skates_
> 
> Javi's FS, ["Peter Gunn/Harlem Nocturne"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kRcvaiZ6ZaI&t=) at Japan Open. Javi made...questionable program choices this season, including this one. Unfortunately, this also happens to be his cleanest performance this season *sobs*
> 
> Patrick's SP, ["Elegie in E Flat Minor"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCkICx4L-yI) and FS, ["Vivaldi's Four Seasons"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZHROrmJIiI) at Trophee Eric Bompard. The best competition in Patrick's career. Patrick broke three world records for highest scores in the short, in the free, and overall (98.52, 196.75, and 295.27 respectively). The short program record would be broken by Yuzuru three weeks later.
> 
> Daisuke's SP, ["Sonatina for Violin in C-sharp minor"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9H65HyGqV2E) and FS, ["Beatles Medley" at NHK Trophy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjdqHJCQ_Zg). After a disastrous outing at Skate America, Daisuke rallied forth to skate two powerful performances at NHK. Unfortunately, this would be the only bright spot as his knee injury only worsened as the season went on. His step sequences are still fire though!
> 
> Yuzuru's SP, ["Parisian Walkways"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B4LqHl2oDmM) and FS, ["Romeo and Juliet" (Nino Rota)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWRcetYPAco) at Japanese Nationals. His GPF performances are also excellent. Just ignore the quad sal fall :/
> 
> Tatsuki Machida's SP, ["East of Eden"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vx6V2CzQFBg) and FS, ["The Firebird"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kzK9kXSXOmM) at Japanese Nationals. The better Firebird costume by the way. ;)
> 
> Takahiko Kozuka's SP, ["Unsquare Dance"](http://www.nicovideo.jp/watch/sm22503104) and FS, ["Rondo Capriccioso"](http://www.nicovideo.jp/watch/sm22512875) at Japanese Nationals. Hideously underscored but with skating skills so lovely, you can't help but cry.
> 
> Nobunari Oda's FS, ["William Tell Overture"](https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x18q6nh) at Japanese Nationals. This would be the last skate of his competitive career as he retired shortly after Nationals.
> 
> [4] Yuzuru entered an affiliation contract with All Nippon Airways (ANA) on July 1, 2013. As his primary corporate sponsor, they support his transportation and skating activity fees.
> 
> [5] Yuzuru's distaste for paprika (sweet bell pepper) is well documented and stems from an unpleasant culinary experience at 2012 Finlandia when he tried a sandwich thinking that it was tomato but turned out to be paprika instead. 
> 
> [6] Weird Japanese CMs are a thing. Click here for Daisuke's [JP Post CM](https://youtu.be/nBiuBFDrVzs?t=344) and Mao's [Toiletton CM](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8a39JOzUlzQ).


End file.
